


Beachwood Cafe

by Amcgovern17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not Epilogue Compliant, POV Draco Malfoy, Romance, Secret Relationship, Songwriting, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29165976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amcgovern17/pseuds/Amcgovern17
Summary: Draco and Harry run into each other at a coffee shop a few years after the war. They start sitting together, then start talking. Slowly they become more to each other, but each doesn't realize the other has feelings.Based around Harry Styles' Falling. Includes some other HS songs too.NOTE: on 2/14/21 I decided to change the rating from M to Explicit.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 35
Kudos: 110





	1. The Beachwood Cafe

**Author's Note:**

> a huge thanks to Aigidion for beta-ing this work, and for also continuously telling me to write things down when I get ideas. 
> 
> This is my first fanfiction, I hope y'all enjoy. The idea formed in my mind when I listened to Harry Styles' song Falling and I just couldn't let it go. And then I proceeded to listen to every other song trying to see how they might fit in to my story. 
> 
> Disclaimers: I do not own the rights to Harry Potter or any Harry Styles song. I am not British, so excuse any mistakes there.

**The Beachwood Cafe** Chapter 1

He looked up when the bell chimed as the door opened. There weren't often many other customers at this time of day. Which is exactly why Draco chose to come to the Beachwood Cafe at 10 most mornings. Moping about the Manor day in and day out did no good, but walking the streets of Diagon Alley typically drew a bit too much attention. 

He hadn't seen that face, that unruly mop of hair, those round glasses in over three years. Except in the Prophet, of course. They were never short on articles about Harry's life (or what they imagined it was as he seemed to keep fairly private) that they liked to pass off as "journalism."

Harry Potter hadn't noticed Draco in the corner yet as he ordered his food. 

Draco always sat at the same table, next to the fireplace but with a decent view of Diagon Alley. He had ordered a hot chocolate and a chocolate croissant, as he did every day. His mother would not approve of that much sweet in one meal, but really, one could never have too much chocolate. Today he made notes in the margins of the quarterly potions journal he subscribed to, trying to flesh out a first draft for a Potions textbook. The poorly written _Magical Drafts and Potions_ required for first year Hogwarts students was outdated and unhelpful. 

Draco was pulled from his thoughts as the barista called out that Harry's black coffee and omelet were ready. He realized he must have been staring, as Harry was staring back with half amusement and half questioning on his face. 

Draco nodded. Harry smiled and gave a sort of wave as he collected his food and sat on the armchair near the door. 

He tried to get back to the journal, he really did. But memories--and the inevitable guilt that came along with those--forced their way to the front of Draco's mind. Before he knew it, Harry was finished his meal, checking his watch, rushing to clean up his little spot, and quickly making his way out the door. 

But not before turning to Draco with a quick, "Hope you're well." 

_Hope you're well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's short. I'm honestly not sure how long this fic will be, but I do intend on making the following chapters longer. 
> 
> Should have updates in the next few days :)


	2. Hot Chocolate and Writing

**Chapter 2--Hot Chocolate and Writing**

After that first interaction, they fell into a routine of sorts. Draco sat at his table and tried to work, but would be distracted. Harry would loudly come in, order his food, and sit on the armchair. Harry would inevitably spill his drink or laugh out loud at something he was reading. Harry would breathe in Draco’s direction. And Draco would not be able to focus one bit on his research.

Every day they silently greeted each other with curt nods or small waves.

Draco was almost sad when Harry didn't come in on Sunday.

But that's nonsense. It's not like they were friends or even acquaintances. They hadn't even really talked, for fuck's sake. They were merely former classmates, former enemies. Of course, Potter wouldn't go out of his way to continue this little routine. It had just been a coincidence that they were at the cafe at the same time for several days in a row. Draco put it out of his head as best he could.

Monday morning found Draco in a rush and in a mood—his mother wanted to talk to him and didn't get the hint that he had places to be.

"Do you have somewhere to be, Draco?" Narcissa asks, almost reading his mind as they stroll through the grounds.

"No, mother," he answers. _Though I'd rather be anywhere but here if you're going to ask personal questions_ , he thought. He glanced at his watch. _9:45. I should still make it in time. Not that Potter will likely be there._ Draco had tried not to get his hopes up, but he thought of little else since the missed sighting.

Draco wasn't sure why he wanted to see Potter again. There was so much he wanted to say, and yet he felt there was nothing that they could really talk about. They were connected by the past, but Draco still felt the sting of Harry's rejection in his first year. _Maybe if we had been friends, I would have..._

Draco cut those thoughts off quickly. There was no use wishing to change the past and wondering about the 'what ifs.' He'd been down that rabbit hole before, and it wasn't a pretty place.

"...should start thinking about settling down," Narcissa was saying. He'd heard this speech a thousand times. Find a wife and produce an heir, proudly carry on the family name. Though there wasn't too much left of that, no thanks to his father's choice of side during the wars. And since his father had been carted off to Azkaban, his mother even seemed okay with the idea of him finding a husband after he’d mentioned once that the wife part was highly unlikely.

Narcissa stopped and put her hands on Draco's arms. "I want you to be happy, darling," she said sternly.

"I know, mother."

"Draco, I can see that your mind is elsewhere," knowingly reading Draco. He'd never quite gotten used to how she could do that. Her and Pansy. Draco could hide his thoughts and emotions so well, except where they were concerned. "Go. Your mind is already there, so go."

She squeezed his arms and then kissed his cheek. Draco gave her a small smile, then turned back down the path to the gates.

9:55. He apparated to Diagon Alley and made his way toward the Beachwood.

* * *

Draco almost stopped as soon as he opened the door, wavering slightly and trying to keep his expression neutral. There, at his table, was Harry Potter.

Harry smiled and waved Draco over. He stood as Draco approached the table, sheepishly running a hand through his hair. There are two mugs of hot chocolate and two plates—a chocolate croissant and a blueberry muffin.

"I hope I'm not being too presumptuous, but I figured since we're usually here at the same time, you might want to sit together?" Harry rushed out.

"I have a lot of work to do," Draco said immediately. It came out a bit harsher than he'd really intended. He did have a lot of work to get done, though he knew he wouldn't get any done whether they sat together or not. Harry didn't need to know that.

"We don't have to talk or anything," Harry said quickly. "I have some things I should do, and you can work on whatever it is you work on."

Draco eyed Harry, then nodded and sat.

True to his word, Harry didn't say anything, just scribbled what looked like Quidditch plays in a small notebook.

* * *

After an hour or so of surprisingly comfortable silence, where Draco somehow actually managed to get a decent start on the chapter about the relationship between Potions and Herbology, Harry checked his watch and started to pick up his things.

"Thank you," Draco said, motioning toward the empty mug of hot chocolate in front of him.

"It's nothing. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Yes." Harry nodded, then left.

 _Did I just have a meal with Potter and we not get into an argument_ , Draco thought. _Did I just agree to have another?_

He knew they had agreed to put the past behind them—Harry had asked they do as much after he spoke for Draco and Narcissa at the post-war Death Eater trials. He'd even held out his hand to Draco to shake, the same as Draco had to Harry on the train their first year at Hogwarts. There was something in his eyes that Draco had believed, and, wanting to start anew, he shook Harry's hand.

Since then, Draco had practically become a recluse from most wizarding society, stalking the halls of the Manor for months before finally deciding to try and make something of his new life. Potions was where Draco's heart lay, and so he studied privately under a potions master in France for some time. Not long after getting his mastery, Draco had the idea to write a Potions textbook and had been working on it since.

Harry had also disappeared after the trials, until one day he was announced as the new Seeker for the Falmouth Falcons.

So neither of them had had the opportunity to prove to each other that they really wanted to start over. Until now.

* * *

Harry and Draco sat together every morning that week. Some days Harry was waiting for Draco at his table— _no, it was probably their table now_ , Draco thought—with both drinks (always a hot chocolate for Draco, but Harry seemed to be making an attempt to try everything on the menu), already scribbling down plays or reading some magazine. Other days he would walk in a few minutes after Draco, glance across the room, and smile when he'd see Draco already waiting for him.

"What's it today then?" Harry would ask as he sat, reaching for his mug.

"Ethiopian blend, black," Draco responded, glancing up from his notebook to see Harry taste his coffee.

"Mmm, that's perfect." Harry wrapped his hands around his mug and sat back to eye Draco.

"It should pair nicely with the blueberry muffin." Draco took a sip of his hot chocolate.

"Have you tried it? You always have the same thing. Don't you get bored?" Harry asked. He looked genuinely curious.

Draco put down his mug and pen and sat back to consider his answer. "Not really. I might have a sweet tooth, and Mother doesn't usually serve anything but tea. And, don't ever tell her I said this, but quite frankly I hate tea."

"There's plenty of coffee options here. I mean, we are at a coffee shop," Harry responded. "I haven't had anything that I don't like."

"Yes, well, you need higher standards." Really, Harry seemed like he would be happy to have sink water.

"Oi, my standards are just fine, thank you," Harry countered. "Maybe yours are just too high."

"Chocolate makes me feel better." Draco wasn't sure why he said it. It was the truth, he had started enjoying chocolate during the war when Voldemort had taken up at the Manor because they reminded him of Hogwarts. At some point, it had just become routine to order a hot chocolate.

"Yeah, me too." Harry eyed Draco. "What are you working on?" He reached towards the book Draco had propped up on another stack of books. "Managing toxicity levels of wormwood in standard Healer Level 2 draughts," Harry read.

"Yes, quite fascinating really," Draco grumbled, taking his book back.

"I didn't mean anything by it. I remember you were always good at Potions," said Harry. He paused, seeming to be waiting for Draco to say more. "What's with the notes then?"

"I'm writing a textbook. Or at least trying to. I doubt any publishers will want to associate themselves with a Malfoy. But the research gives me something to do, keeps my mind focused."

"I get that. Writing helps me," Harry offered.

"Writing what?" Draco asked.

"Anything really. Nothing. Sometimes I just write to write. After the... well, after. Someone recommended I write. So, I started writing letters to my mum. Just got things off my chest. Then to Sirius and my dad. Hermione said I should consider writing my side of what happened."

"An autobiography?" Draco asked.

"Yeah, I guess. But I don't know, everyone already knows what happened. I just needed something to do. To get it off my chest. You should try it."

"Writing? Potter, I'm writing a textbook," Draco commented.

"No, you know what I meant."

"Maybe," Draco answered. He took another long sip of his hot chocolate. It was close to when Harry usually picked up his things and left. "I used to write songs."

"Really? I don't think I'd consider you the musical type. Well, why don't you write a song then," Harry suggested.

Draco tapped his finger on the mug, thinking. "Maybe," he said again.

"Great! I'd love to hear it if you ever do," Harry grinned.

"Don't hold your breath, Potter," said Draco. "Shouldn't you be going?"

Harry glanced at his watch. "Shit, yeah, sorry. Team practice in a few. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Harry asked as he put on his jacket and tucked his notebook away.

"Yes," Draco answered. "I'll be here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all. Especially since this is a WIP. After some outlining, I'm thinking about 15 or so chapters.


	3. Golden

**Chapter 3 Golden**

“Why exactly did you leave the fast track to becoming the head of the Auror department to chase a snitch and…” Draco paused, gesturing at Harry’s sweaty clothes. “And smell?”

“We had practice early this morning and I didn’t think I had time to shower before coming here,” Harry replied guiltily.

Draco was torn between trying to decide if that meant Harry was enjoying these meetings and trying not to stare at his sweaty, obviously just-worked-out form.

They had been having coffee together for three weeks. Harry came to the Beachwood every day except Sundays. Some days they sat in quiet solitude, and others they talked. Draco was surprised at how easy Harry was to talk to, and at how down to earth he really was. Harry often asked personal questions and rarely understood basic social cues, and seemed rather like a bull in a china cabinet in comparison to Draco’s refined—nee, stuck up—upbringing.

Recently, more days than not had involved full conversations between the two. _If only 11-year-old Malfoy could see me now_ , thought Draco. _Maybe I wouldn’t have turned out such a little shit._

“Have you not heard of a cleaning charm, Potter? You have a wand for a reason,” Draco said, casting a simple cleaning spell on Harry.

Harry looked relieved. “Thanks. I forget sometimes how easy it is. Old habits.” Harry reached for his croissant, taking a large bite and seeming pleased to discover warm ham and cheese on the inside.

“And leaving the Aurors?” Draco prodded. Harry really was likely to become the youngest head of the Auror department before he unexpectedly quit. The Ministry didn’t seem to mind that he hadn’t taken his NEWTs or gone through the two year trainee program. The Prophet talked for weeks about how the Great Harry Potter, after single-handedly defeating the Dark Lord, was stepping in to protect the wizarding public from all manner of evil.

“Oh, well.” Harry ran his hand through his hair and shrugged. It was a nervous thing he did, Draco noted, any time the conversation turned to his life. “It was a lot of politics. I was a glorified figurehead. They just wanted The Chosen One to show off at political events.”

Draco nodded. He knew plenty enough about politics thanks to his father’s insistence.

“And besides, I was going a little mad with all the paperwork,” Harry grinned.

“I believe the sanity ship sailed a while back, Potter.”

“Harry,” Harry immediately countered, ignoring the dig. “Please. I feel like we’re enemies in school when you call me that.”

“Very well. Harry” Draco arched his eyebrows, picked up his pen, and started skimming down the lines of his book.

* * *

“Don’t rush me, Draco, it’s an important decision,” Harry waved Draco off.

Draco huffed and retreated back to their table. W _hy did I let it become our table_ , he thought, a _nnoying child, can’t even make a simple decision._ _I n_ _ever get any work done_ _anymore_ _._

As if Draco’s thoughts grumbled loud enough for Harry to hear, Harry quickly made his pick and ordered. The Beachwood Cafe had come up with a new marketing scheme to get more people in—Around the World in 80 Cups. There was a new cup of coffee or tea to try from 80 different places around the world, and for some god forsaken reason, Harry had insisted he try them all.

“So I decided to work my way through the 80 types alphabetically.”

“Hmm,” Draco responded. He looked up from his journal as Harry continued talking. He was sitting with his back to the door, and the light of this surprisingly warm spring day was streaming in perfectly through the window. It cast a golden aura around Harry, who seemed to glow.

 _You’re so golden_ , Draco thought.

“I was considering doing it geographically, and go continent by continent, but I’m not sure how well I would keep up with that as I don’t know world geography quite well enough to remember it on my own.” Harry was buzzing with excitement.

“So are you just going to mix up the coffees and teas as long as it’s alphabetical? Or complete the alphabetical coffee list then move on to tea?” Draco asked, knowing Harry hadn’t thought about that yet.

“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that yet,” Harry repeated Draco’s thoughts.

“Hmm,” Draco responded as Harry excitedly went back up to the counter to stare at the menu.

Draco sat back in his chair and sipped on his hot chocolate, watching Harry as he talked to the barista. He was absentmindedly humming, watching the smile light up Harry’s face as he spoke. The barista was handing Harry a sample of something, which he ate happily.

 _I wonder if Potter considers us friends_ , Draco thought. The idea was a little absurd. _Putting the past behind you is one thing, but the Chosen One becoming friends with a Death Eater? Well, former Death Eater. And not by choice, he thought. Still._

In the almost month that Draco and Harry had been sitting together, Draco had spent most of his time working on his book or talking with Harry. He hadn’t hyper-focused on the past, hadn’t played over his guilt or the what-ifs. Obviously, he still had his moments, but the moments were fading substantially in comparison to Before Harry.

_Golden, golden, golden_

_As I open my eyes_

_I’d consider him one of my friends, though_ , Draco thought.

Harry sat back with Draco, offering a bite of whatever sample he’d been given to try. Draco took it and made a face.

“It’s a Corny Gazelle from Morocco!” Harry enthusiastically told him.

“Potter, its a Cornes de Gazelle,” Draco corrected.

“Yeah, that. Isn’t it delicious? Like a donut, but better.” Harry waited for Draco to agree, looking expectant.

There it was again, the golden glow from behind Harry. The melody Draco had been humming popped back into his head.

_Hold it, focus, hoping_

_Take me back to the light_

_I know you were way too bright for me_

Harry quirked his eyebrow and shifted in his seat. “Is there something on my face?” he asked, wiping at his mouth.

“No. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

_I'm hopeless, broken_

“Writing,” Draco replied after a pause.

Harry smiled. “Well go on then, I’ll leave you to it.” Harry tore a piece of paper out of his notebook and started writing down countries and coffee and teas, planning out what he wanted to try and when.

Draco pulled his notebook closer and turned to an empty page.

 _Dear… Dear who? Was this a letter?_ No, he didn’t want to write a letter. There was a song he needed to get out. Draco started writing.

_Golden, golden, golden_

_As I open my eyes_

_Hold it, focus, hoping_

_Take me back to the light_

_I know you were way too bright for me_

_I'm hopeless, broken_

_So you wait for me in the sky_

_Browns my skin just right_

Is that where Draco’s head was? Did he like Harry, or was this just a convenient friendship of sorts?

_You're so golden_

_You're so golden_

_I'm out of my head_

_And I know that you're scared_

_Because hearts get broken_

Harry started to pack up his things, smiling and telling Draco he’d see him tomorrow.

When Harry was already out the door, Draco realized he hadn’t answered.

_I don't wanna be alone_

_I don't wanna be alone_

_When it ends_

_Don't wanna let you know_

_I don't wanna be alone_

_But I, I can feel it take a hold (I can feel it take a hold)_

_I can feel you take control (I can feel you take control)_

_Of who I am and all I've ever known_

_Loving you's the antidote_

_Golden_

_You're so golden_

_I don't wanna be alone_

_You're so golden_

_You're so golden_

_I'm out of my head_

_And I know that you're scared_

_Because hearts get broken_

_I know that you're scared_

_Because I'm so open_

_You're so golden_

_I don't wanna be alone_

_You're so golden_

_You're so golden_

_You're so golden_

_I'm out of my head_

_And I know that you're scared_

_Because hearts get broken_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Golden by Harry Styles


	4. Seeker of a Flat

**Chapter 4 Seeker of a Flat**

Draco was busy writing when Harry arrived at the cafe. Sitting down with his meal, Harry craned his neck a bit to try and catch a glimpse of what Draco was writing.

“Bugger off,” Draco said, quickly covering the page with an annual Potions Bazaar flier.

“You’ve been writing a lot lately. Is it helping?”

Draco was loathe to admit it to Harry, but it had been helping. He was working through a lot of issues, sorting through his emotions and thoughts much easier than when it was all in his head.

“Mmf.” Draco made a sort of noncommittal answer, but Harry grinned at him anyway.

“I told you so. I do have good ideas once in a while. Though technically it was my therapist’s idea,” he said cheerily, taking a sip of his zavarka tea. “Yikes, this needs...something,” he said as he got up to talk to the barista.

Draco took the opportunity to hide his song lyrics in the back of his notebook and opened an old Potions textbook. When Harry returned he asked, “What country is that, then?”

“Russia. It’s a tad too concentrated for me, I think. But that’s the last of the teas on the list, so I’ll start on coffee soon. Still don’t want to try?” He held up his cup towards Draco, knowing he would say no but offering anyway.

“God, no, Potter. Keep that on your side of the table.”

“Suit yourself,” Harry replied with a shrug.

“No Quidditch plays today?” Draco asked after a few minutes of silence. He was too distracted to really get much done today. Lyrics and melodies were still floating through his head, and he itched the write them down. But also didn’t want to chance Harry reading anything. They were rather personal, he wasn’t holding anything back.

“Nah, season is almost over and we didn’t qualify for the playoffs this year.” Harry looked disappointed.

“Sorry, I really don’t keep up anymore.”

“It’s nothing,” Harry said.

“You don’t look like it’s nothing,” Draco said, seeing that Harry was pulling at the loose thread on his sleeve.

“I don’t know. I just hate the off season.”

Draco nodded. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t do well when I have too much time on my hands. I need distractions, and Quidditch takes up a ton of my time. And there’s only so many times I can visit Hermione and Ron. They need their alone time and I feel like a bother.”

“I’m sure you aren’t a bother, Potter.”

“Harry.”

“Harry. It doesn’t change the fact that they are your friends and I’m sure they don’t mind,” Draco knew what Harry meant though. Sometimes he felt like he was intruding on Pansy and Nott when he visited. Third wheeling and all that.

“No, I know. But Hermione is so busy at work trying to tie up every loose end that we all know she’s already tied up perfectly. She’s just crazy right now, the baby is due in a few months. And poor Ron is going mad trying to make sure she stays happy.”

Draco laughed. “Granger was always strung up too tight.”

Harry gave Draco a side eye.

“I’m not saying that as a bad thing. Just saying that maybe she could do with relaxing now and then,” Draco said.

“Takes one to know one,” Harry joked.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that you should take your own advice and relax some.”

“I am relaxed.” Draco sat up a little straighter.

“Sure you are.” Harry leaned back and folded his arms, grinning at Draco.

“How am I not relaxed?”

“Well, for starters, do you always have to wear a suit everywhere you go, Draco?” Harry asked, gesturing at Draco’s tailored grey suit.

“Potter, just because you dress like a heathen doesn’t mean I want to. Relaxed doesn’t necessarily mean unrefined.”

“You just seem so… uptight? Dress casually, for once.”

“This is casual, it’s not black and I don’t have a waistcoat on,” Draco piped back.

Harry laughed at that. Draco smirked, knowing just how ridiculous that argument was. He looked at Harry who was wiping his eyes, still letting out small laughs. _The Golden Boy, Draco thought._ He looks nice when he laughs.

Draco cleared his throat and decided to change the subject quickly, derailing that train of thought that would lead nowhere good.

“I’m thinking about buying a flat in London.”

“Oh?” Harry asked, stirring his half-empty and probably already cold tea.

“Yes. It would be nice to be closer to more shops to buy potions and have my own space to brew. But mostly because my mother keeps asking me personal questions.”

“How is she?” Harry asked.

“Well, I think. Coping. Despite what he was, I think she still misses father.” Draco didn’t talk much about Lucius, but he knew his mother missed him.

“Well, I think your own flat is a good idea.”

* * *

“Look at this one,” Harry said, sliding the paper over to Draco. Ever since he mentioned looking for a place to move, Harry had taken it upon himself to find the perfect place.

“It has an unfinished loft you could convert into a lab, plus it’s half the price you were looking at.”

“Hmm, money isn’t really a bother, Harry. But I do like the little yard. I could grow some of the more rare Potions ingredients I might need.” Draco had gone to view a few flats already, but nothing seemed like the right fit.

Usually, he immediately found fault with the listings Harry gave him, which only made Harry search harder. Like it was a personal challenge.

When he returned home, Draco owled the agent and made an appointment to see the flat later that day.

* * *

The next morning, Harry came rushing in to the Beachwood asking Draco how it went.

“Harry, you failed to mention the ghastly PINK BATHROOM!”

“Oh. Well, I don’t know. Who knew you had anything against pink?” Harry supplied sheepishly.

“It looked like something that bitch Umbridge would like.”

“Fair point. You could always redo it to something more...not pink?”

“I’m sure I could,” Draco handed a stack of papers to Harry. “You’ll have to help, of course. I don’t think I need get my hands dirty tearing down wallpaper.”

Harry looked at the bill of sale in his hands. “Wait, you got the flat? You have a flat!” He reached across the table and squeezed Draco’s hand. “I’m so happy for you. This will be good for you, I think.”

Draco looked down at their hands. He could feel his blush so he cleared his throat, schooled his expression, and pulled his hand back quickly, reaching for his hot chocolate.

“I hope so.”

At that moment, Luna Lovegood walked in to the Beachwood Cafe. Draco felt like his heart had stopped, and his brain was immediately trying to find an excuse to save Harry from lying to his friends.

After she ordered, she walked over to their table. “Hello Harry. Hello Draco. I was just on my way to guest lecture at Hogwarts about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack for the fourth years. Odd seeing you two here together,” Luna said matter-of-fact.

Though she didn’t sound like she was judging them, Draco didn’t want her telling any of Harry’s other friends that they’d been together. Harry probably didn’t want them to know.

“Potter helped find me a flat in London since he knows the area well. Just drew up the papers today.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

Harry gave him an odd look. “Yeah, a flat… How are you Luna?” Harry asked.

Draco breathed out a sigh of relief when the two started talking about Hermione’s baby, and something about how Luna wanted Harry’s help putting a magical object to help ward against nargles in the nursery.

Once she left, Harry turned to Draco and grinning, said, “I bet Luna wouldn’t mind a pink bathroom.”

Draco snorted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. Don't expect two updates in one day again.


	5. Of Pasts and Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gone back and edited Chapters 1-4 to have all of Draco's thoughts appear in italics now. I find it's easier to read. No other changes though.

**Chapter 5 Of Pasts and Understanding**

“You’re late,” Harry says accusingly. Draco’s hot chocolate and croissant was sitting at the empty spot of their table as Draco came in.

“I lost track of the time, and besides, it’s not like we plan to meet every day,” Draco answered smoothly, sitting down and casting a quick warming charm on his now cold mug.

“I didn’t know the Great Draco Malfoy could lose track of anything,” Harry prodded.

“Very funny. I was shopping for furniture for the flat, and the old bag that runs Faun’s Fantastic Furnishings kept asking me so many questions. Do I like Queen Anne or Mid Century Modern, would I prefer walnut or English oak, would I be needing a pair of fauteuils for the morning room…” Draco took a long sip of his hot chocolate then sighed.

“What’s a [fauteuil](https://www.google.com/search?q=Fauteuil&rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS866US866&sxsrf=ALeKk00jSIjeVKHKITXmLUy7V50j8uttZA:1613161703052&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwjK3ZnSl-XuAhUFLqwKHZR8DkAQ_AUoAnoECAUQBA)?” Harry asked.

Draco laughed, and Harry joined in. _Of course Potter would be of no use in this. He probably had a mattress, fridge, and single chair in his house._

“No matter, it should all be delivered in a few days. For the amount of galleons I gave them, they should come up with something suitable.” Despite his complaints, Draco was actually looking forward to moving in and having a place of his own. It felt like freedom was just waiting around the corner.

He would soon have a place to make his own where he could leave his notes and books strewn about without having to worry about a house elf picking them up and messing up their order. He could brew potions until all hours of the morning without suffering his mother’s worrying looks the next morning at breakfast.

He also wanted to show Harry the flat. He’d helped pick it, after all. But Draco wasn’t sure how Harry would react if he asked. They hadn’t really talked about what they were to each other. Were they friends now? It was okay to ask a friend over to your house, right? He’d had Blaise, Pansy and Nott over for champagne when he’d closed.

But Harry was different. They had seen each other six days a week for over two months now. But they didn’t invite other friends or go anywhere else aside from the Beachwood. Draco decided to leave it. Harry was busy writing something, so Draco opted to not tempt fate and read a novel he’d picked up while he was out.

* * *

“Did the English Oak Queen Anne phatooey look good in the morning room?” Harry teased as Draco came in at the end of the week.

“Fauteuil, and yes, but I had them covered in new pink upholstery to match the bathroom,” said Draco as he set down a precariously large stack of books.

“And you’re planning to run a library from the flat, Draco?” Harry gestured to the books.

“Come off it, don’t be an ass. These are all of my Potions books and research for my textbook. I was merely bringing them from the Manor.” Draco tried to clear some space on the table to make room for his notebook, but opted to set part of the stack on the floor.

“You carried all that from home? Did you apparate here?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Yes. It took a few moments to make sure none of them fell off mid-apparation. Can’t always be sure where things will end up if you lose them mid jump.” Draco had never been very good at sizing charms and didn’t want to risk destroying the books to make them smaller and more manageable to carry.

“Two trips are for losers?”

“Of course.” Draco glared at Harry, who was already happily making himself look busy, ignoring Draco.

They worked in silence that morning, both focusing well on their own projects for the first time in a while. At some point, Harry got up for a coffee refill, asking Draco if he needed anything.

When it was about time to leave, Harry reached for one of the book stacks. “Right then, I’ll take these.”

Draco stared. “What are you doing?

“Helping. Lead the way,” Harry replied, gesturing toward the door.

“I can manage myself, Potter.”

“Harry. I’m sure you can manage yourself fine,” Harry joked, “but these books are another story. And you don’t have to. I can help.”

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Draco was already starting to pick up the remaining books, sure he’d lost the battle.

“Nope, season’s over, remember?”

* * *

Harry and Draco set the books down on the kitchen counter when they came in. Harry started to look around a little, so Draco offered to show him the place.

“It’s quite lucky to have a garden this size in this part of London,” Draco was telling Harry. “Or so the agent said. I’ll need to start planting soon.”

“You should put a bench or a swing out here.”

“For what?” Draco asked.

“Sitting? Typically what one does with a bench,” Harry responded sarcastically. “Just somewhere to relax and enjoy good weather when we have it.”

“Hmm,” was Draco’s only response, choosing to ignore that Harry had said ‘we’ and leading them into the morning room.

“This is much cheerier than my place,” said Harry once they’d finished the tour. “As much renovation as I’ve done, Grimmuald Place still leaves something to be desired.” Harry sat on one of the cozy armchairs near the window.

“I’m sure there was plenty of dark magic sewn into the wards that you’ll never be rid of that feeling. I’m afraid the Manor is the same,” Draco said, sitting opposite Harry. “Sometimes I can see feel Voldemort there, evil walking through the halls.”

Draco closed his eyes, trying to banish the memories from his head. He sat for a few minutes before opening his eyes and finding Harry watching him. Beautiful green eyes staring into his own grey ones.

“Sorry. It’s hard to forget.” Draco sighed. “I think about how much I could have done differently to stop him. Save some people. Do something.”

“We were children. Given a shit fate and expected to make the right decisions,” Harry responded quietly.

“Yes.”

“And when it mattered, Draco, you made the right choices. You saved me at the Manor. You gave me your wand during the Battle. Maybe things would have been different, but maybe they were exactly as they were meant to be.”

Draco closed his eyes back, and laid his head on the chair back.

“I still see death almost every time I close my eyes to sleep. All the deaths I once thought I could have prevented. Sirius. Remus and Tonks. Fred,” Harry sounded tired. “Me.”

Draco lifted his head back up. “What do you mean, ‘you?’”

There was a long pause. “I died that night.”

This time, it was Draco looking into Harry’s eyes when they looked up. “I didn’t know.” Harry was not only the Chosen One, the Boy Who Lived, the Prophet’s favorite subject. But he had given his life for the wizarding world. _He had given his life for me._ And in that second chance, here he was sitting in Draco’s chair, choosing to spend time with Draco.

“It’s not exactly public knowledge.”

“But you’ve told me,” Draco said, more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” Harry half whispered. There was something in his eyes now that Draco couldn’t read. Friends tell each other secrets. They had talked about their troubles and their trauma almost in passing over the last few months. But this conversation hard gone to the heart of it all. Like they now understood each other.

In that moment, Draco wanted nothing more than to go over to Potter and kiss him.

He stayed firmly planted in his seat.

After what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time, Harry pointed at the guitar in the corner. “Do you play?”

“Yes.”

“Will you play me one of your songs you’ve written?” Harry asked.

“No.” Draco answered almost too fast. “I don’t think I...” he trailed off, not sure what to say.

“It’s okay, Draco. When you’re ready. I want to hear them.” Harry smiled and stood. “As much as I’d love to stay, I promised Hermione I’d help Ron set up the baby’s crib.”

Draco stood to walk Harry to the door so he could apparate. “Of course. Thank you.”

_For helping with the books. For talking. For understanding._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was written, so why not give it to y'all. I took a week long writing break and am back at it today.


	6. Where's the Tea

**Chapter 6--Where's the Tea**

Draco woke up Sunday morning in his new flat. The sun was shining directly onto his pillow. _I’ll have to do something about that,_ thought Draco grumpily, adding ‘buy drapes’ to his mental to-do list. He reached for his wand and cast a tempus spell.

_9 am. Better get up and dressed then._

Draco showered, dressed, and walked out of the wards at the front door to apparate to Diagon Alley. He had a long list of things to get done today, including picking up a few things for the flat, unpacking some things he’d brought from the Manor, connecting the flat to the floo network, and altering the wards to fit him.

And he was itching to pick up his guitar and work on some melodies that were floating around in his head. 

_But first,_ he thought, _a hot chocolate and my croissant._

Harry never came to the Beachwood on Sundays, so Draco took that as an opportunity to write in peace. Lately, he’d been writing letters that he would never send, apologizing and explaining. He was working on one to Vincent. There was so much about Crabbe's life and death he felt responsible for.

Today, however, a new melody was floating in his head. Draco jotted down a few words before going back to the letter.

_Sweet creature_

_Had another talk about where it's going wrong_

_But we're still young_

_We don't know where we're going_

_But we know where we belong_

Draco was thankful to Harry for suggesting he write. And the letters were helping. _Why can’t I write a letter to you, Potter,_ Draco mused. _Everything I want to say to you comes out in lyrics._

_Sweet creature, sweet creature_

_Wherever I go, you bring me home_

* * *

Draco was knee-deep in books, trying to organize everything by subject and author before putting them on to his built-in bookshelves in the office. He had a record playing loudly, his first act of defiance against his mother’s rules for the manor.

*Thunk* “Damnit,” Draco cursed as a pile of wizarding history books fell over. He’d stepped back to reconsider whether his Transfiguration texts fit best in their own section or should be included with other basic wandwork texts.

As he leaned down to pick them up, he heard his wards chime. Someone was coming up the path to the doorstep.

*Knock knock knock*

“Right then, who the bloody hell is coming here…” Draco muttered to himself, checking his watch as he reached for the door.

There, on his doorstep, was Harry Potter.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Harry said, running his hand through his hair and holding up a bag.

Draco stared for a moment before quickly wiping the shock from his face and remembering his manners. He stepped aside to let Harry through.

Harry went straight for the kitchen, set the bag on the counter, and began taking out various containers.

That’s when Draco caught the scent. “What the hell is that, Potter?”

“Harry. It’s curry,” Harry answered. “I didn’t know what kind you liked, so I brought a couple of options.

“What kind I…” Draco’s brain was still trying to wrap around Harry being here.

“Do you have a favorite?” Harry asked.

“I have never had curry.”

“Oh.” Harry stopped pulling lids off of the containers. “Oh,” he said again, this time almost excitedly.

“Oh?”

“Well, you should try some of each. Wait, no, that’s too many flavors mixing. You’ll have to go in stages,” Harry was in his element apparently. He turned to grab two plates from a cabinet.

“How did you know where…” Draco trailed off as Harry was still talking about which flavors should and shouldn’t be mixed, how some were sweet and some spicy, some went better over rice, and there was even a place that had curry pastries.

Draco decided to just accept that this was how he would spend his Sunday night. Trying different curries with Harry, laughing at Harry’s excitement when Draco announced that his favorite was the chicken tikka masala.

“Of course it is, Draco, it's sweet,” Harry said, as if he’d known all along which Draco would pick.

* * *

They were both sitting at the kitchen bar and talking, having finished their meals. Harry got up and started grabbing at plates.

“No, I’ll get all this. You brought dinner,” Draco shooed Harry away from the table. Harry looked like he was just about to say thank you when Draco flicked his wand and the dishes flew into the sink and stacked themselves to be cleaned later.

Harry rolled his eyes and started rummaging through cabinets. His shirt lifted at the waist some when he reached up, and Draco quickly looked away.

“You got any tea?” he asked.

“No. There’s hot chocolate,” Draco answered.

“Of course. I should have expected as much. No tea because Draco has standards and a sweet tooth.” He started pulling out the mugs and chocolate, bumping Draco’s shoulder.

Draco made sure to point out the marshmallows, smiling as Harry added them to the pile.

* * *

They sat in the morning room again. The sun had long set, so Draco turned on the lamps and lit the fireplace with magic as they walked in.

“You’d think I didn’t know magic if you came to my house. I’d have done all that by hand.”

Draco made a face.

“What? I grew up a muggle. I didn’t even know magic was real until Hagrid showed up with my letter,” Harry pointed out.

“I heard rumors about that,” Draco mentioned. “That you lived with muggles.”

“Yeah. They hated everything to do with the wizarding world. Including me.”

Draco sipped his hot chocolate. “Go on then.” Harry gave him a questioning look.

“Tell me about it. Growing up without magic,” Draco answered the silent question.

“Not a fun story, really. My Aunt and Uncle treated me like their personal maid. Dudley—that’s my cousin—and his friends all used me as their punching bag. A few times I used accidental magic, but I convinced myself that it was just making it up to cope or something.”

“What did you do?” Draco asked.

“The best was at the zoo on Dudley’s birthday. Right before I found out about Hogwarts, actually. He was pestering a python so I made the glass disappear and he fell in.”

Draco laughed.

“Found out I could talk to snakes then. Didn’t realize until second year that that wasn’t normal for wizards.” Harry grinned. “You know how that turned out.”

“Serves Dudley right, I think,” Draco said, finishing the hot chocolate. He frowned into his mug, not realizing he was so close to being done, and set it on the side table.

“Yeah,” Harry laughed. “Got punished pretty bad for that one, though.”

“Most of my early magic was used to terrorize the house elves.” Harry gave him a look. “Not in that way, Potter. Mother would ask for a tea service, and suddenly there would be no sugar in the house. Or when guests would arrive, their coats would suddenly fly off to go dance in the ballroom.”

“Oh man, I can almost picture your mother’s face.” Harry was laughing.

“She tried to be stern but was usually generally amused by it all. I found out later that father, on the other hand, punished the elves for it, claiming that they should have had more powerful magic than a child,” Draco shook his head.

“Charming,” Harry said dryly.

“That’s one word for him. Probably not the word I would have chosen,” said Draco.

“Is he still…” Harry half asked.

“In Azkaban? Yes. He will be until he dies, I suppose.” Draco wasn’t bitter anymore. While he wishes things could have been different, Harry was right. He had just been a child. Why would his father lie or be wrong about something? He just wishes he’d realized it much sooner.

“I’d say sorry, Draco, but I don’t think you want me to be.”

“You’re right in that assumption, Potter.”

“Harry.”

“Harry,” Draco agreed. For a moment, they just looked at each other. Then Harry turned and stared at the dying embers of the fire that had long since gone out.

Draco almost thought he saw Harry flush, but no. _That’s nonsense._ He continued to study Harry, the mess of black hair, the thin glasses, the lines of his jaw down to his neck. Draco thought he could see some black lines on Harry’s chest, only just hidden by the shirt.

_Sweet creature, sweet creature_

_When I run out of road, you bring me home_

_I am attracted to him,_ Draco thought.

Harry yawned. Turning back to Draco, he opened his mouth to say something.

“Go home, Harry. Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Draco said before Harry could.

“See you tomorrow Draco,” Harry said, standing. He placed his hand on Draco’s shoulder and squeezed as he passed, heading out to the front door to apparate home.

 _I’m attracted to Harry Potter,_ Draco thought again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think posting more chapters is making me write more because I have less and less stashed away. Anyway, I feel like I should remind everyone of the disclaimer that I am not British.


	7. Here's the Tea

**Chapter 7--Here’s the Tea**

Draco could still smell the curry in his kitchen for the next several days. It was definitely strong, but he couldn’t help but smile every time. It reminded him of Harry and his impromptu visit.

Draco had spent a lot of time thinking about Harry since realizing his attraction. He’d watched Harry grow up over the years at Hogwarts, through the childhood stages to the awkward teenage stages. But adulthood had been kind to Harry.

Friday rolled around and Draco absentmindedly grabbed a few books to bring to the Beachwood. He apparated to Diagon Alley and started making his way towards the cafe, still thinking of Harry.

Draco had always known, objectively, that Harry was attractive. But admitting to himself how fit Harry was hit like a bludger to his chest. He was tall and lean, but muscular thanks to all that Quidditch practice. His jaw and neck were well-defined. His bright green eyes crinkled and his Adam’s apple bobbed when he laughed. Though it was untamed, Harry’s mess of black hair gave him a just-shagged look. Sometimes Harry wore button-down shirts and left the top few buttons open, which Draco seemed to hyper-fixate on. Draco thought he could see a tattoo peaking through every once in a while, and he couldn’t help but imagine what was underneath the perpetual jeans and tees.

Draco was torn from those thoughts when the very subject called from across the alley.

“Draco! Hey, over here!”

Harry was waving him over to a small shop a few doors down from the cafe. It was a record shop Draco had never been in before.

“Potter, not at the Beachwood today?” Draco asked, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed them.

“No, actually I was going to ask if you wanted to grab some take out and eat at your place?” Harry looked hopeful.

“Uhm…” Draco trailed off. _Merlin, Malfoy, pull yourself together. You do not stutter._ “Of course. But I get to pick the restaurant.”

Harry smiled. “Right then, well, I’ll just have whatever you’re having. I’ve got to pop in the shop a moment, I’ll meet you back here in 10?”

Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry. “What are you up to?”

“Nothing!” Harry answered quickly. _Too quickly_ , Draco thought.

“Right. Ten minutes.” Draco walked off towards a small sandwich shop a few blocks down.

 _What on earth is Potter up to? And why the sudden need to eat in private?_ He tried not to worry, he really did. But Draco couldn’t help but wonder if Potter had decided not to risk being seen out and about with Draco.

* * *

Draco met Harry back in front of the record shop 15 minutes later. He had waited in line at the sandwich shop, and then had to change his usual order as they were out of salami.

“Smells good,” Harry commented, falling in to stride with Draco as they headed to the Diagon Alley apparition point.

“Hmm,” Draco answered.

“Mind side-alonging me?” Harry asked, shifting the packages in his hands.

Draco silently held out his arm, and Harry wrapped his hand around his crooked elbow.

 _He’s warm._ Draco glanced over at Harry who was smiling and waiting for Draco to apparate them away. He searched Harry’s eyes for a moment, trying to find something to give away a change, a reason they weren’t sitting at their table at the Beachwood.

He didn’t see anything. They apparated to Draco’s.

* * *

After Harry and Draco finished their food, Harry said, “Come see.” He nodded his head towards the back of the house, taking the packages and leading Draco to the morning room.

“So, I hadn’t gotten you a housewarming present yet, and finally decided what you needed,” he said, placing the packages on the floor.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Potter.”

“Harry,” Harry gave Draco a look that said ‘you know better by now,’ ignoring Draco’s comment. Harry sat, then patted the rug next to him.

“You want me to sit on the floor?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Yes. Now sit.”

Draco huffed, but did as he was told.

“Open them,” Harry said, barely containing his excitement. “This one first.” He pointed at one of the parcels.

Draco untied the string and ripped apart the brown paper packaging. Inside was a stack of records by a band called Queen. _I guess I could have guessed that they’d be records, considering where he was lurking about this morning._

“It took a while for me to decide which records you needed first,” he grinned.

Draco wasn’t sure what to say. He’d mentioned to Harry how he liked to play music that he knew his mother wouldn’t like, but didn’t think he’d go out and buy him more.

 _Queen_. He wondered if they were new. Draco proceeded to open the other packages, all containing what seemed to the be entire works of several different bands—The Beatles, Foreigner, Britney Spears, The Police, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Tom Petty, Tupac, Kansas, Pink Floyd, The Notorious B.I.G., Weezer. _What odd band names._

Meanwhile, Harry was putting the first album on to the record player.

Guitar and drums started playing.

“I was told a million times of all the troubles in my way. Mind, you grow a little wiser, little better every day…” a voice sang through the room.

Harry was half-heartedly singing along, bobbing his head to the drumbeat.

“I’ve never heard of any of these,” Draco commented.

“Oh, I figured. They’re all muggle. But they’re fantastic, I promise,” Harry answered. He sat back down next to Draco, a bit closer than he’d been earlier.

“Wizard music is pretty limited, and I figured you didn’t want any Celestina Warbeck in your collection,” Harry grinned.

“Please, Merlin no.” Draco cringed. “Mother plays that trifle constantly at the Manor. I used to put a silencing charm around my room to get some reprieve.”

Harry laughed. “Well, these are a pretty wide variety, so hopefully you’ll find something you like. Queen is one of my favorites. Freddie Mercury, the lead singer, is fantastic. There’s a few in there I’m not sure you’ll like much, but…” Harry shrugged.

The Queen song ended and the next began. “Yesterday my life was in ruin. Now today I know what I'm doing. Got a feeling I should be doing all right, doing all right.”

“Want a hot chocolate?” Harry asked. Draco nodded in response absentmindedly. Harry slipped out of the room to go make some.

Halfway through the song, Draco was humming along. Or trying, the melody had seemed to change. A few more moments passed and the song ended, and Draco looked around, realizing Harry hadn’t come back yet.

 _Where is he, boiling the milk himself?_ Draco joked in his head.

As Draco walked in the kitchen he noticed several things at once.

First, Harry was in fact waiting for the milk to boil. _Has the man never heard of magic?!_

Second, Harry was sitting up on Draco’s counter, swinging his legs, eyes closed, humming a tune. _He looks good in my kitchen. Rather gorgeous._

And third, Harry was also boiling water. There was a second cup and a box of tea next to him on the counter. Draco didn’t own tea. Harry had brought his own box of tea to Draco’s. Harry wanted to make sure there was tea in Draco’s flat for when he came over. Harry intended to be here enough to constitute bringing his own box of tea.

Just then, Harry opened his eyes and looked up at Draco, catching him staring. He quirked his eyebrow slightly and grinned.

Before he realized what he was doing, Draco had taken several long strides across the kitchen, took Harry’s face in his hands and kissed him hard.

Harry stiffened briefly, but almost immediately closed his eyes and kissed Draco back with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, curling his arms around Draco and settling his hands into Draco’s hair.

From this angle, Draco had to tilt his head up slightly. He nudged Harry’s knees apart to get closer. Draco’s mind was flying ten thousand miles a minute, torn between shock and joy. Harry licked Draco’s lips, and Draco opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

Draco felt like sparks ought to be flying from the two of them. The room ought to be spinning. The kiss was hot and Harry was gorgeous.

Draco snapped to when the kettle started to scream. He pulled back from Harry, putting as much space between them as he could before his back hit the island.

He stared at Harry, whose brilliant green eyes were staring right back. _Merlin, he looks gorgeous_. Harry’s breath was shallow and lips were swollen. Draco reached up to run his hand through his hair, to try and flatten what he knew must look a right mess.

“Uhh, the kettle…” Draco said, gesturing towards the stove.

“Oh, right,” Harry said, pulling his eyes away from Draco’s and hopping off the counter. He fumbled with the knobs on the stove, and poured the water into his mug. He looked at the milk on the stove and grimaced. “I think I’ve burned it.”

Harry picked his wand up from next to the stove and vanished the burnt milk. He then pointed it at Draco’s mug, which immediately filled with steaming hot chocolate and marshmallows. He picked up two mugs and nodded towards the morning room.

“Shall we?”

They sat in their chairs, sipping on their warm drinks and listening to several Queen albums, commenting on lines that stood out and drifting into natural conversation. When it was getting close to supper time, Harry stood up and stretched.

“Need to head home to freshen up a bit, promised I would meet Ron and Hermione to head to the pub together. Neville’s going to ask Hannah to marry him and wants us there for moral support,” Harry grinned.

“I’ve connected your flat to my floo on my end, would you mind if I…” Harry gestured towards Draco’s fireplace.

“Of course,” Draco got up and waved his wand at the fireplace, altering his floo network wards to give access to Grimmuald Place. He gestured for Harry to step forward once he was done, returning to stand by his chair.

Harry picked up a handful of floo powder, turned to Draco and said, “Thank you, Draco, for everything today.” He threw the powder into the fireplace, stepped inside, spoke his destination, and was gone.

 _For everything_. Draco touched his fingers to his lips and smiled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Queen songs are Keep Yourself Alive and Doing All Right, the first two tracks of their first album.
> 
> My beta's reaction when she read this: "That KISS. DAMN. And then they just DONT TALK ABOUT IT!"


	8. Awkwardness and Owls

**Chapter 8-Awkwardness and Owls**

Draco woke before the sun the next morning. He lay in bed staring at his ceiling for a while, trying to pull the last memories of his dream back to him before they slipped away completely.

Draco’s thoughts were centered on Harry. He’d kissed him. Harry had kissed back. But then he didn’t mention it again the rest of the night, carrying on as if nothing had happened. But he did stay, didn’t run screaming from Draco’s flat.

_It’s too early to be overthinking this much. Merlin help me._

Draco tried to shift his attention away from the previous day by singing.

_Sweet creature, sweet creature_

_Wherever I go, you bring me home_

_Sweet creature, sweet creature_

_When I run out of road, you bring me home_

His thoughts wandered to how Harry had looked when Draco had pulled away. His swollen lips, his half-dazed eyes. The way he’d stared at Draco, seeing him.

He remembered the way Harry’s jaw had felt beneath his hands. The stubble from a few days of not shaving. Draco only wished he’d run his hands through that unruly, unreasonable, sexy hair.

Draco felt his body reacting to the memories. He’d have a new problem soon if he didn’t switch gears.

_Shower. Then breakfast. Then the Beachwood._

Draco rolled out of bed and made his way to the bathroom to shower, wondering how today would go. Would Harry say anything? Would it go back to normal or be awkward?

 _I’m not even sure he considers me a friend, and now I’ve gone and fucked things up_ , he thoughts as he stepped under the water.

Draco turned the heat up more as if he could steam away his problem. _Bloody hell, I have dinner with Pansy tonight. She’d going to notice something’s wrong if I don’t get my shit together. Malfoys don’t pine._ Draco rinsed the soap from his body, sighing as he leaned his forehead on the tiles. _Who am I kidding?_

* * *

Draco got to the Beachwood Café forty-five minutes earlier than usual. The barista was a little surprised to see him and told him the chocolate croissants were still baking.

He sat down with his hot chocolate and tried to read a recent article about potential side effects of taking both the Blemish Blitzer potion and the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes Kissing Concoction. Once he had reread the same sentence six times, he gave up, pushing the article to the side.

Draco adjusted his suit jacket. _Why am I hot? Why is it so hot in here today?_ Draco took the jacket off and placed it over the chair. He was trying to smooth his shirt down when he decided that not having the jacket on was too informal and not like him at all.

 _So much for not acting weird, Malfoy._ Draco rolled his eyes at himself.

Finally, Harry walked through the door, sending a little wave to Draco before going to order.

Draco watched Potter acting normally. _He doesn’t look nervous, or different. Are we pretending nothing happened?_

Harry sat down with his coffee and pastry, and passed Draco’s chocolate croissant over.

Draco cleared his throat. “So what are you having today?” he asked.

“Türk Kahvesi and baklava. From Turkey. Apparently you’re meant to drink this coffee with the grounds. I’m not really sure how I feel about that,” Harry answered, taking a sip anyway.

 _I’m really sure how I feel about you_.

“Ah. I’ll stick to hot chocolate then,” Draco said instead.

“Yeah, that might be best.” Harry made a face, putting the mug down. He pulled out his sheet of all the coffees he’d tried and wrote something in the box labeled ‘Turkey.’

Draco took that as a sign to go back to his work, forcing himself to focus as much as possible on the article. Harry pulled out some parchment and started writing.

Reading some interesting points, Draco asked Harry for a quill to make some notes.

Harry handed him one silently.

Draco glanced up at Harry every so often, only to find him buried in his letter.

The morning passed slowly, and it was getting close to when Harry usually left. _Or when he used to leave when he didn’t come over._

Harry started, “So, uh…” He ran his hand through his hair. “Do you use some sort of spell to shave?”

“Yes.” _Well, that’s not exactly what I expected_.

“Oh, great. Right, well, I have team pictures today and forgot to shave,” shrugging and touching his jawline.

“I like it.” _Shit. Shit, you did not just say that aloud. Fuck, Malfoy, filter please._

Harry couldn’t hide the blush. “Oh, erm… thanks?”

“Glaber Faciem,” Draco offered.

“Thanks, Draco.” Harry visibly relaxed.

“Make sure to point your wand exactly where you need it lest you find your eyebrows disappear, too.” Pretty much all the boys in the Slytherin dormitory had to learn that the hard way in sixth year when Blaise had told them about the spell.

“Oh,” Harry responded. He squinted a bit at the fireplace behind Draco and grinned a little. “And you know that because?” he asked.

“You don’t want to be late, Potter,” Draco dismissed. He wouldn’t admit anything.

* * *

Draco stepped out of Pansy’s fireplace, vanishing the ashes before she could claim they had landed on her expensive, one-of-a-kind Persian carpet.

He straightened his suit and took a deep breath, preparing himself for a night of Pansy. He loved her dearly, but she was a lot to handle in large doses.

“Draco, darling, is that you?” Pansy called from the drawing room.

“Yes, Pans,” Draco answered, making his way to the drawing room before she came to drag him there. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “How are you?”

“Oh you know,” she responded vaguely. “Wine?”

“Hmm,” Draco responded. She was already pouring when she asked.

Pansy paused before handing the glass to Draco, squinting at him appraisingly. He narrowed his eyes in return, noting the awkward position of her arm. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“You first, Parkinson,” Draco said. He could tell she was hiding something and knew fine and well that she’d already noticed he was too.

Just then, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini walked in, talking something about the goblins at Gringotts. They both worked there in different capacities. Pansy smiled at Theo as he kissed her cheek.

He reached to shake Draco’s hand, “Malfoy.”

“Nott.”

“It’s not a Death Eater meeting, gents, lighten up!” Blaise exclaimed, pouring himself a glass of wine and smiling brightly. “Draco, good to see you.”

Draco and Blaise grasped each other’s shoulders and smiled.

Theo stood behind Pansy’s chair, his hand on her shoulder. _Oh,_ Draco realized what she was about to say.

“Theo’s asked me to marry him,” Pansy said, smiling broadly and holding out her hand with the engagement ring she’d been hiding.

The air was full of congratulations and handshakes and happiness.

“About damn time.”

“Took you long enough.”

Pansy smiled, grabbing Draco by the arm and leading them all to the dining room for dinner.

“Draco, darling, what’s wrong?” Pansy asked quietly so that the other’s wouldn’t hear.

Draco sighed, knowing well enough that he’d have to tell her eventually.

“I’m fine, really. I’ve been seeing someone. And no, I won’t tell you who lest the entire wizarding community find out about it tomorrow,” Draco said, staunching out Pansy’s almost immediate question.

“I would never, Draco. I’d at least sell the information to the highest bidder.” She grinned, eyes full of mirth. “Can I at least have a hint?”

“Hint about what?” Theo asked.

“Draco is seeing someone,” Pansy answered.

 _Here we go,_ Draco thought. The conversation quickly turned to his (lack of) dating life, much to Draco’s chagrin.

* * *

They’d retired back to the drawing room for a celebratory toast after dinner.

Draco sat back in his chair, fiddling with the champagne flute and fondly watching his friends argue about when to announce the engagement in the Prophet.

His mind was drifting, thinking about how they would react to him bringing Harry along to one of these dinners. They would likely accept him quickly but give him a hard time about it. He wondered if Harry’s friends would do the same for him.

He was drawn from his thoughts when Blaise asked him a question.

“Sorry, what?” Draco asked, having missed what was said.

Pansy gave him a knowing look and pursed her lips. He would hear from her about this, she wouldn’t let it go easily, and she was a damn harpy when she wanted information out of you.

“I asked if you want to join Nott and me for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron tomorrow.”

“Oh, no I’m not free,” Draco answered.

“Otherwise spoken for?” Pansy asked.

“Come off it, Pans, I’m allowed to go out.”

“So it _is_ a date?” She grinned.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he responded, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. Pansy huffed and made a face, knowing she’d have to bother him about it later as he was making his escape.

* * *

When Draco stepped through the floo at his flat, the first thing he noticed was the owl asleep at his window.

 _Wonder how long she’s been there,_ Draco thought. He unclasped the window and the owl woke, startled. She nipped at Draco’s finger when he reached to bring her inside.

“Oi! I’m trying to help you. No need for that,” he said, reaching for the owl treats on his desk anyway.

He held his hand out again and looked the owl in the eyes, trying to come to an agreement.

She answered with a ‘hoo’ and held her leg out for Draco to grab the letter. He gave her a few scratches before she hopped back to the window and took off.

He watched her fly out of the garden before looking down at the letter. There was nothing written on the outside. He broke the seal and unfolded it.

_Draco,_

_Meet me at my place in the morning. I have something I want to show you. I’ve added you to my floo network, so just come over._

_~HJP_

_P.S. Wear something suitable for flying_

Draco reread the short note. _Flying? Hmm_. _Should be interesting, Potter. At least you still want to see me._

That night, Draco dreamt of flying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for double posting again. It was written, so why not? 
> 
> I'm thinking somewhere around 18 chapters for this fic.


	9. A Time Under the Canyon Moon

**Chapter 9-A Time Under the Canyon Moon**

“Potter?” Draco called. He’d just stepped through the floo into Grimmuald Place, unsure of where Harry was or even what part of the house he was in.

He heard a soft thud from above him, then the sound of footsteps down the stairs.

“Draco, I was wondering if you would come,” Harry smiled.

Draco merely raised his eyebrow in question, choosing to look Harry over. He was dressed in muggle jeans and a thin tee shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and muscles nicely. His hair was as unruly as ever. _Apparently, it does look worse after he sleeps_ , Draco thought affectionately. He had on two mismatched socks and one trainer in his hand.

“Agatha came back without an answer, so I wasn’t sure…” Harry was running his hand through his hair, nervous. _Nervous about what?_

“Agatha?” Draco asked.

“Yeah. Like Agatha Christie? The murder mystery novelist?” Harry smirked. “She’s muggle, I’m not surprised…”

“She was not muggle, Harry,” Draco interrupted.

“Oh.” Harry seemed to be thinking this over, reevaluating what he knew of her.

Just then a beautiful and rather large horse patronus came galloping into the room, rearing in front of Harry.

“Harry, floo call me when you have a chance,” came a familiar voice.

Harry turned to Draco and asked “Do you mind? That was Ginny.”

“No, of course not.” Harry smiled and knelt in front of the fireplace.

Draco went to the wall of bookshelves and began perusing the titles. Most of everything seemed decades old, subjects ranging from ancient wizarding genealogy to spells and potions, likely all very outdated. Draco tried his best not to eavesdrop, but it was hard and Harry was not trying to keep his voice down at all.

“…and mum thinks she’s dropped, which means she might go into labor soon,” Ginny was saying excitedly.

“That’s great, Gin. How’s Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Better now that she’s gone home. I think mum was driving her mad. You know how she gets,” fire Ginny grinned and Harry huffed a laugh.

“Are you off with him today, then?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered warily. “What of it?”

“Nothing, Harry. I meant what I said before. We were just kids in school.”

“Thank you, Ginny. I should be off, let me know if anything happens, yeah?” Harry and Ginny said their goodbyes and Harry walked towards Draco.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“Lead the way, Potter.”

Harry didn’t correct him, but threw on a large jacket and led Draco out into the back garden to the broom shed. Harry and Draco chose their brooms (there were a surprising number of options, Harry got a lot of free ones to try from different companies hoping that The Harry Potter would endorse their brooms) and were off.

After a few minutes of flying north, Draco asked, “So what is it you want to show me? We’re obviously flying far from your place.”

“Oh no, this is definitely not anywhere near home. I hope you don’t mind a bit of a fly, it’s about an hours’ flight north.”

Draco shrugged saying, “I always say I don’t get to fly enough.”

Harry grinned at him and shot forward. Not one to be outdone, Draco caught up quickly and they raced north.

* * *

By the time they arrived, they had raced and dove, flew over towns and rivers and pastures and forests. They both landed and dismounted, out of breath but with huge smiles plastered on their faces.

Draco looked around. They were in a small cluster of trees and he couldn’t see very far through them, but there was a well-worn path.

"There’s a muggle parking lot back that way,” Harry said, pointing in one direction. “We are going this way.” Harry hid the brooms behind some bushes and started down the path.

“And what, exactly, are we going to see?” Draco asked. “Where are we?” The trees had disappeared behind them and they were steadily making their way up a grassy hill.

“Near Dufton in Cumbria. Middle of nowhere really, but I love coming here.”

As Harry said it, they made it to the top of the hill and Draco sucked in a breath. _Bloody hell that’s gorgeous_ , he thought. In front of him was a canyon, seemingly out of nowhere. It cut a u-shape through the ground, which practically dropped out from under them. Rocks and grass and wildflowers ran down to meet at a small river, meandering through the valley.

The sky above them was a stunning shade of blue, with small clouds dusting above. It was an unusually sunny day for spring in England, but Draco was glad for it. The wind caught them both and Draco looked over at Harry, hair blowing around his face and smiling peacefully with his eyes closed. Like he was trying to breathe as much of this air as possible.

He looked free. _Golden._ Draco looked back out over the canyon.

Harry walked them off to the side, away from the path, and sat down. His legs dangled over the edge and he leaned back on both hands. Draco wanted to keep this picture in his mind at all times _. I adore you,_ Draco thought.

“What’s this place called?”

“[High Cup Nick](https://www.google.com/search?q=high+cup+uk&rlz=1C1CHBF_enUS866US866&sxsrf=ALeKk03HduZNhEn582zK-84CYn4dErUxUw:1613330718882&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiBy52jjeruAhUvSjABHQD7BtIQ_AUoA3oECA4QBQ&biw=1600&bih=757),” Harry answered, looking up and smiling at Draco. “Ron and I flew over this place on the way to school second year.”

“Isn’t that when you two arrived in an enchanted car?”

“Yes.” Harry grinned. “I remember thinking it was stunning, and we even came back while hunting for horcruxes. Despite being on the run, I felt at peace that night. So now I just come here when I need a break from it all.”

“It’s beautiful,” Draco said, knowing that word wasn’t quite enough.

“Yeah.”

They sat together talking for a few hours, happy just to be in each other’s company. In their own little world for a bit, while the rest of the world waited.

* * *

The sun was almost set, pale pinks and purples on the horizon. The canyon was cast in the faint moonlight, breeze still blowing steadily through the grass.

Harry was laying back on the grass, hands behind his head and staring up at the stars. Draco was leaning back on his hands which were inches away from Harry. He wanted to run his fingers through Potter’s hair, to lean down and kiss him.

 _Where’s your courage, Malfoy,_ he asked himself.

They both turned to look as a loud sound came from behind them. A Jack Russell terrier patronus was running towards them.

“Harry, get your ass to St. Mungo’s! Hermione’s having the baby!” Ron’s voice called with a mixture of excitement and panic.

“Oh, shit. Uh…” Harry had stood and was looking at Draco. “Draco, I’m…”

“Harry, go. Apparate. I’ll handle the brooms,” Draco calmly. He could see the excitement and panic starting on Harry.

“Are you sure? I really didn’t mean for the night to end like this,” Harry made an apologetic face.

“Yes. I don’t want to be held responsible if Hermione finds out I held you back.”

Harry gave a quick laugh, grabbed Draco’s shoulder and placed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll see you. Thank you. And sorry, again, Draco.” And with that, he apparated away.

Draco’s hand was on his cheek where Harry had kissed. He smiled and sat back down in their spot, happy to stare out at the moon for a while, humming a soft tune.

_You gotta see it to believe it  
Sky never looked so blue_

Draco’s fingers practically itched with the song. He gave once last look out at the canyon—their canyon—and apparated to where they’d stashed the brooms. Grabbing both from the bushes, he held on tight and apparated back home, setting the brooms down in favor of his guitar.

He lit the fire with his wand, then accio-ed a notebook and quill to the footstool in front of him. He sat on the edge of his chair with his guitar and sang.

_  
So hard to leave it  
That's what I always do  
So I keep thinking back to  
A time under the canyon moon_

_The world's happy waiting  
Doors yellow, broken, blue  
I heard Ginny saying  
"We were just kids in school"  
And I keep thinking back to  
A time under the canyon moon_

_I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going home_

_I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going home_

Draco kept strumming the guitar, making little adjustments here and there. He slowed a bit and looked up at the record player, which had one of the Tom Petty records Harry had given him on it. He’d listened to it this morning. 

_Quick pause in conversation  
He plays songs I've never heard  
An old lover's hippie music  
Pretends not to know the words  
And I keep thinking back to  
A time under the canyon moon_

_I'll be gone too long from you_

_I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going home_

_I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going home_

_I'm going, oh, I'm going_  
I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going home 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting early for Krystle 
> 
> Song is Canyon Moon by Harry Styles. I've slightly altered two parts of the lyrics (I heard Jenny saying "Go get the kids from school"; She plays songs I've never heard) to fit the story better, but not a huge change. 
> 
> Friendly reminder that I have no real-life knowledge of the UK and relied on images from Google for my descriptions. Also, horrible timing, Ron!


	10. Feathers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, this chapter contains sex. 
> 
> I originally rated this fanfic as Mature, and feel as if the rest of the story (not including this chapter) would still be considered Mature. However, as this chapter contains an explicit sex scene, I've decided to up the rating to Explicit. I find the line between "Mature" and "Explicit" is rather blurry, so I'm erring on the side of caution.

**Chapter 10-Feathers**

Draco woke to the sound of tapping on the glass window. Agatha was perched outside, impatiently waiting for Draco to let her in.

Rolling out of bed, Draco opened the window. She gave him his letter, snapped the owl treat from his hands, grumpily hooted at him, then took off out the window.

Draco opened the letter.

_D,_

_Hermione and baby are both healthy. It’s a girl. Thought you’d want to know._

_HJP_

Draco smiled, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes. He slipped his house shoes onto his feet, making his way to the kitchen for some breakfast.

Halfway down the staircase, his wards chimed.

Torn between his manners and his empty stomach, Draco sighed and reached to open the door.

Once again, there, on his doorstep, was Harry Potter.

Harry was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday’s trip and, frankly, looked exhausted. But he wore a huge smile on his face.

“Harry…” Draco started. Harry cut him off with an insistent kiss, pushing Draco back up against the door frame, bracing one hand behind Draco’s head and settling the other on Draco’s hip.

Draco sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and _finally_ sinking his fingers into Harry’s hair.

Harry started kissing down Draco’s jawline, through the tiniest bit of morning stubble he’d not yet had a chance to shave off. He nipped at Draco’s earlobe and said huskily, “I had meant to do this last night…”

“Mmm,” was all Draco could think to answer with. Harry’s mouth was on his neck, sucking right where his pulse beat through. Harry’s hand had now worked its way under Draco’s shirt, feeling his lean stomach and side, tracing the v of his abdominals.

Draco grabbed Harry’s chin and brought him back up to see eye to eye. He searched Harry’s brilliant green eyes and what he saw practically made his heart hurt. Harry’s eyes were fire, burning through Draco with love and need. Draco brought their lips back together, opening his mouth to explore Harry’s.

Harry leaned his whole body on to Draco, settling his leg between Draco’s thighs and pushing him further against the wall. Draco could feel Harry’s arousal against his stomach, which made his own erection twitch. Harry smirked into Draco’s mouth and, without breaking their heated kiss, turned to lead them up the stairs towards Draco’s room.

It was not graceful, and both Harry and Draco stumbled their way up the steps, missing some, tripping, hitting the walls. They were laughing and kissing and slightly bruised by the time Draco pushed his bedroom door open and was guided, backwards, to his bed.

Draco watches as Harry leans over his body, hands braced on either side of Draco’s head. He kissed Draco lightly, then leans back to lift the shirt over Draco’s head, tossing it haphazardly across the room. He breathes in, staring wide-eyed at Draco’s scars.

“Draco…” he breathes. He looks up into Draco’s eyes and Draco sees the sorrow. But he’s already long forgiven Harry for using that spell on him. He was protecting himself, and Draco deserved it. And it was a reminder of who he’d been and who he had become now.

Harry’s fingers were lightly tracing over each scar. Draco held Harry’s hand over his own heart, letting him feel the rapid beating, stilling them both for a moment. After a moment, Draco shifted under Harry and unintentionally moved against Harry’s hardness.

Draco groaned and closed his eyes. Harry took that opportunity to tweak Draco’s nipple. “Potter,” Draco practically growled.

Harry smirked, pulled his hand away, and began kissing the scars up to Draco’s neck, sucking the same spot he’d worked on earlier.

Draco pulled at Harry’s shirt, getting it over his head and then pulling Harry back down to his lips. He caught a glimpse of the black tattoos he’d only peaked before. _Feathers,_ he half thought, distracted by what Harry’s tongue was doing.

Draco’s hands were back in that unruly black hair, determined to make that just-shagged look all his doing this time. Their kissing was getting more desperate, Draco’s hands making their way down Harry’s taunt shoulders to firmly grasp his ass.

It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t get enough of Harry. His hands, his mouth were on Draco. His stubble was scratching Draco’s skin, body pressing Draco into the bed.

 _Too many clothes_ , Draco thought desperately when Harry licked behind his ear. His hands found their way into Harry’s waistband, fumbling to undo the belt.

Harry shuffled back, standing over Draco and shucking his jeans and boxers down at once, stumbling slightly while untangling his feet from them. He stood back up, locking eyes with Draco.

Draco sat up and scooted forward to the edge of the bed, grabbing Harry’s hips as he stood. Still locked in a gaze, Harry lowered himself to his knees, pulling the pajama bottoms off of Draco. One hand grabbed Draco’s now bare ass, and the other confidently wrapped around his cock. Looking up to watch Draco’s face, he lazily gave a few tugs.

Draco looked down to soak in the sight before him. There, on his knees with Draco’s dick in hand, was Harry Potter.

Except suddenly, Harry moved his hand to the base and it was Harry’s mouth that was wrapped around Draco’s cock. Draco’s eyes closed and head leaned back, hands finding Harry’s hair almost immediately, savoring the feeling and the warmth and wetness of Harry’s mouth.

 _Merlin, his tongue._ Draco felt the moan escape his lips, and felt Harry’s tongue go right back to swirl around the tip of Draco’s arousal. “Merlin,” he breathed aloud this time. Feeling himself about to fall over the edge, he pulled Harry off and to a stand, not ready for this to be over.

He quickly flipped them around and pushed Harry onto the bed, leaning to grab the bottle of lube from the bedside table. He squirted a generous portion into his hand, using it to slick his own cock then to do the same to Harry’s. Harry sharply pulled in a breath when Draco’s fingers wrapped around him.

Draco climbed on top of Harry, straddling him and fitting their penises to rub together and starting up a steady rhythm. He wrapped his hand around as much of both of them as he could manage. Harry quickly added his own hand. He immediately found Harry’s lips again, kissing him like he’d been doing it for years.

His hands were running up and down Harry’s chest and sides, memorizing the muscles and lines and scars.

He could feel himself getting close, quickening his pace and Harry tried to pull his hips even closer, if that was possible. He pulled away from the kiss, burying his face in Harry’s neck, feeling their sweat mix together.

“Fuck, Draco, feels so good… didn’t imagine you would be so good…” Harry grunted.

The thought of Harry imaging them having sex was what finally sent Draco over the edge, his vision blurring and fingers digging into Harry’s arms. Harry was not far behind, finishing from the sight of Draco’s pleasure.

Draco was placing lazy kisses to Harry’s neck before rolling off to the side, wandlessly muttering a cleaning spell.

Harry shifted in the bed to get comfortable, pulling Draco to lay in the crook of his arm and kissing the top of his head.

* * *

They laid in Draco’s bed together for a while, talking about this and that. Draco had studied Harry’s tattoo for a bit, asking Harry about it. Spanning from his left pec and over his shoulder to his back was a snowy owl, wings outstretched as if in flight. Harry told Draco of Hedwig and how she was his first ever birthday present and the first friend he’d ever made. And of how she died trying to protect him from Voldemort. The tattoo was a gorgeous tribute to her life, and suited Harry perfectly.

Changing subjects to something much lighter, Draco recalled a memory from his childhood of having to take piano lessons.

“Do you still play?” Harry asked.

“Some. But it’s hard to practice since I don’t own one myself. That’s one of the reasons I picked up guitar. Much easier to tote around places.”

“I know you’ve written some songs—have you played them?”

“Yes. Most of the time it’s the melody that will get stuck in my head first, and the lyrics will come later. The lyrics almost feel like letters,” Draco paused. “You’d mentioned writing letters helped.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed.

“But they all came out like songs,” Draco finished. _About you._

“Will you play me one?” Harry asked, turning to look Draco in the eye.

Draco made a face and shrugged. He didn’t really feel like he was ready, despite this new step in their… _is this a relationship?_

Harry pulled Draco back in close, his head laying on Harry’s chest. “S’okay. You will one day,” he grinned into Draco’s hair.

Harry stomach made a monstrous noise then.

“Hungry, Potter?”

“Haven’t eaten since we ate at High Cup,” he answered sheepishly.

Draco rolled his eyes and started to get up, grabbing his wand from the bedside table. He summoned some trousers and a long sleeved shirt, turning to Harry as he got dressed. “Right then, the fridge is practically empty. I’ll pop in somewhere and grab some food.”

* * *

Draco came back to his flat to find Harry sitting in front of his record player, several records strewn about in front of him. He was leaning back on his arms, eyes closed and tapping his foot to the beat.

The sun was streaming through the windows, casting that seemingly ever-present golden glow over Harry.

 _What are we doing,_ Draco thought to himself. Smiling and drinking in the sight, he decided to figure it out another time. _Maybe we’ll work it out_.

“Hey,” he greeted, sitting down with Harry on the ground. This was becoming a new habit apparently.

“Hey yourself. What did you bring me?”

“Curry,” Draco held out the bag and Harry grinned.

They ate together and talked. About music, about their friends. Harry told Draco the whole story of the previous night and of Rose, the newest red-headed Weasley.

When he was just finished his curry, Harry pointed at his mouth. Draco reached up, trying to wipe away whatever Harry had seen.

Harry smiled, then crawled into Draco’s lap and wiped the remnants away for Harry before placing a long, slow kiss to his mouth. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry, holding him close and content to make out in the early afternoon sun.

When Harry yawned, Draco vanished the empty containers and summoned some pillows and a book. He leaned back against the bookcase and made himself comfortable, then patted his lap for Harry to lay down.

“Wake me by 3 please,” Harry muttered before soon drifting off to sleep.

Draco spent the next few hours reading and running his hands through Harry’s hair. Sometimes he would pause at a chapter and just watch Harry breathing. He wondered about their times at Hogwarts, if they could have been friends. He wondered why they were now, all things considered. But he was glad for it and made a decision to treasure these moments. He tried not to think about how things would be if they could tell their friends about their relationship.

 _But then, inevitably, the Prophet would find out and there’d be outrage. Harry might be the Golden Boy but the won’t trust that I didn’t curse him or drug him into being with me_.

3 o’clock rolled around and Draco woke Harry from his sleep.

They shared a lingering kiss in front of the fireplace before Harry, almost unwillingly, let go and flooed home.

Draco walked over to his armchair, lost in thoughts and memories of Harry for the remainder of the evening.

_Maybe we’ll work this out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed that.


	11. Just Let Me Know

**Chapter 11- Just Let Me Know**

Draco and Harry settled back into their earlier routine over the next several days. They’d meet in the morning at the Beachwood. Draco would have his usual hot chocolate and Harry had settled on black coffee.

“I tried so many different coffees, I feel like I forgot what a decent cup of black coffee tastes like,” he explained to Draco one day.

After finishing their drinks, they’d pick a place to grab some takeout and bring it back to one of their places. Sometimes they’d pop into a grocers and grab some things to cook. They always did the cooking at Draco’s flat, afraid of Kreacher since he’d caught them using a sauce pot to boil eggs.

When Draco woke up late that Sunday, he decided to spend the morning playing a new melody he was trying to remember. Harry wouldn’t be done at the Burrow until later, and Draco had promised to bring dinner over to Grimmuald Place.

He’d left the window of the morning room open the previous night, and after a few minutes of enjoying the breeze and sunshine decided to play in the garden.

He was lost in the new melody, pausing to jot down some notes or lyrics every so often. He hadn’t heard Harry come in through the floo.

Harry’s arms came from behind and wrapped over his shoulders, and he kissed the top of Draco’s head. “You bought a bench,” he noted.

Draco turned back some to look up at Harry. “I did. What are you doing here?” he asked curiously. He set the guitar next to the bench and made room for Harry to sit. Despite the new space, Harry sat as close to Draco’s side as possible, cuddling into the nook of his arm and draping his legs over Draco’s leg.

“Mmmm,” he mumbled, closing his eyes and breathing in Draco. “Molly’s planning some big to do for Ginny tonight and shooed us all away as soon as lunch was done. Didn’t want to wait until this evening to see you.”

“What’s happening with Ginny?” Draco asked. He knew she and Harry used to date, but he didn’t know the story behind that. He assumed they were cordial as they still talked.

“She’s bringing some guy over to meet everyone. Bless him really, I remember how that dinner went,” Harry added with a laugh.

“What happened between you and the Weaslette?” Draco asked, using the old nickname he’d called her back at Hogwarts, though without any of the hate behind it.

Harry shrugged. “We dated, sort of. After the war we sort of expected things to just go back to normal. Then I had to get away from everything for a few months, and that included her. She wasn’t exactly happy about that,” Harry grimaced at the memory. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. And by the time I got back, I’d realized I was gay.”

“That would put a damper on things,” Draco added.

“Yeah, a bit. She actually wasn’t shocked about it. Said she’d wondered about me before. They all took it really well, actually. I was afraid everyone would hate me or blame the war and say my head wasn’t in the right space.”

“My mother took it pretty well, too, actually,” Draco said, remembering the look Narcissa had given him across the dinner table when he told her he didn’t ever want to find a wife. She’d slowly swallowed her food and then nodded. The next time they’d talked about his responsibilities as heir, she’d just said ‘if’ instead of when. Draco considered that the best he’d get.

“What about your father?” Harry asked. Draco huffed out a laugh.

"No, he doesn’t know.”

“And your friends?”

“Blaise and Theo figured it out on their own in school. I told Pansy in fifth year when she wouldn’t stop hanging off me, trying to get me to sneak off and make out with her.”

“I always wondered if you two were an item.”

"No. She helped keep my secret, pretended we were anytime someone questioned a bit too much.” Draco didn’t want to think about what would have happened if word had gotten out. Of if it got back to his father that he was anything but the Perfect Pureblood heir to the Malfoy name.

They sat in the quiet for a few minutes. Draco was trying to figure out how to ask Harry what this was. _Or if I should even ask. Asking about us could ruin everything_. Draco frowned. _We don’t talk about it. Maybe it’s something we just won’t do._ And Draco had long since decided that he would live with that as long as that meant they kept doing whatever it was they were doing. Being with Harry outweighed the not knowing.

Draco pulled Harry a bit closer.

* * *

Draco got out of Harry’s bed and started to gather his clothes, which Harry had tossed haphazardly in the heat of their undressing earlier. He pulled on and buttoned his trousers.

“Feels a bit…” Harry trailed off. “Obscene, really. You fucking me and leaving.” He made a face at Draco.

Draco pulled a sock from the lampshade and looked over at Harry, sprawled out across the bed naked, taking up more space that should be possible. His hair was damp, stuck to his forehead. _Definitely a just-shagged look now_ , he thought, smirking.

“I promised Pansy I would help discuss the details of her engagement party.” Draco had already explained this to Harry, but Harry liked to forget things he didn’t like. _It almost sounds like he wants me to stay. I would, Harry. Just let me know and I'd be at your door before you could blink._

“I know,” he answered. Harry flopped his head back onto the pillows. Draco got his shirt on and walked over to Harry, leaving a quick kiss on his lips. Harry reached up and took advantage of Draco’s unbuttoned shirt, feeling his stomach muscles and deepening the kiss.

“Potter,” Draco said into Harry’s mouth.

“I know.” Harry let go.

Draco made his way into the hallway, shutting the door behind him. He leaned his head back against it for a moment, taking a deep breath. He could feel his mind going to places he didn’t want to think about. _I’m not who I used to be. I deserve to be happy._ He was trying very hard to convince himself, but he knew it wasn’t working. _Harry makes me happy._

He half wished Harry would drag him back into bed. Kiss him and convince him to stay, that Harry wanted him to stay.

Draco opened his eyes and quickly made his way towards the floo, shrugging on his suit jacket and using magic to get the creases out. Pansy would definitely notice and he wasn’t sure he could handle the questions right now.

Draco wasn’t sure he had the answers.

* * *

“Damnit Malfoy!” Harry cursed from the kitchen of Draco’s flat.

Draco was in the morning room, writing down lyrics and scratching through them, just to rewrite the same thing again. _That sounds too fucking depressing,_ he thought to himself. But that’s where his head had been at lately.

_Meet me in the hallway_

_I just left your bedroom_

_Give me some morphine_

_Is there any more to do?_

Harry came walking into the morning room, holding an empty box of tea. “I thought you said you’d get more when you were out?” Harry was in a mood too, it seemed.

“Sorry. I forgot.”

Harry huffed and plopped down onto his chair, grumbling something to himself that Draco couldn’t quite make out. This Harry—angry Harry—reminded Draco of year’s past.

 _Potter’s hot when he’s mad_ , he noted. Draco’s mind raced with thoughts of Harry shoving him against a wall, kissing him hard. Thought of hands grabbing his ass and fingers raking scratches in his back.

“What are you thinking about, Draco?” Harry asked quietly.

Draco blinked up at Harry. “You,” he answered honestly.

“What about me?”

“You’re bloody hot when you’re angry. Reminded me of you in school. When you used to follow me in sixth year, convinced I was up to no good.”

“You _were_ up to no good, Draco,” Harry grinned. He sat up a little in his chair.

“And you were angry all the time, Harry.”

“Yeah. Felt like I had a lot to be angry about.”

“You did. And I didn’t help.” Draco thought back to that year, the desperate hoping he could get out of the task Voldemort had given him. Save his own life, save his family’s lives. He kept thinking maybe he could be better.

Harry was quiet. They both watched as the sun lowered in the evening sky.

“What are you thinking about, Harry?” Draco asked, throwing Harry’s own question back.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t have a purpose?”

 _Merlin, that’s not going to be easy to answer, Harry,_ Draco thought.

“Hmm,” Draco supplied, wondering if that would be enough.

Harry continued. “I just…I don’t _do_ anything now. I’m just waiting for practice to start back up for the Falcons. I feel like I should be doing something.”

“What do you want to do?” Harry gave him an odd look. “It’s not that hard a question, Potter.”

“Isn’t it? My whole life led up to killing Voldemort. I didn’t get a choice in that. I didn’t get to do what I wanted. I was shoved in the right direction, herded like a lamb to slaughter by the adults who said they were protecting me.”

“And you gave it all for them,” Draco added, remembering their conversation months ago about how Harry had died that night. Every now and then Draco would have a nightmare, imagining that he was there in that forest. Sometimes imaging that it was his wand who threw the killing curse. He would always wake up abruptly from those nightmares, wishing he could touch Harry to convince himself it was just a dream.

“What do I want to do?” Harry asked himself aloud.

“You’re Harry Potter, so the world is your oyster. You could do anything you want to.”

“Yeah.” Harry watched the sunset out the window for a few more moments. “You could, too, you know.”

Draco thought about what Harry said. Could he do anything he wanted to? _I was given a second chance. Harry gave me a second chance the moment he testified at the trial. And what am I doing with it?_

Draco returned to his notebook, mind flooded with the words to fit the sad melody he’d been mulling over.

_Meet me in the hallway_

_Just let me know I'll be at the door, at the door_

_Hoping you'll come around_

_Just let me know I'll be on the floor, on the floor_

_Maybe we'll work it out_

_I gotta get better, gotta get better_

_I gotta get better, gotta get better_

_I gotta get better, gotta get better_

_And maybe we'll work it out_

_We don't talk about it_

_It's something we don't do_

_'Cause once you go without it_

_Nothing else will do_

After a while, Harry stood from his chair and walked to Draco’s. He put his hands on each armrest and whispered into Draco’s ear, “Right now, I want to do you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Meet Me In The Hallway by Harry Styles.


	12. How It Feels to Have A Heartbeat

**Chapter 12- Heartbeat**

Draco could hear _growling_ … _a lion…in my bed._ He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to reclaim the sleep that was quickly fading. _Lion in my bed…_ his eyes shot open and he reached for his wand, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness.

Braced for a fight, Draco quickly realized the noise was Harry, snoring peacefully beside him in his bed. _In my bed. Harry’s in my bed. It’s morning. He stayed._ Draco smiled. He set his wand back down on the bedside table and rubbed the sleep from his face.

Draco laid back down on his side, resting his face on his hand and watching Harry. _I adore you, you know, Potter. Harry. My golden Harry._ Draco’s eyes traced over Harry’s face, down his neck and at the one feathered wing tattooed over his shoulder and across his chest.

His mind was already humming a new melody, shifting from the sadness of his last song to the hope he now felt.

_Same eyes green, same lips too_

_Same white shirt, couple more tattoos_

_But it's not you and it's not me_

_Tastes so sweet, looks so real_

_Sounds like something that I used to feel_

_But I can't touch what I see_

_We're not who we used to be_

_We're not who we used to be_

_We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me_

_Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat_

Harry was starting to stir. He stretched his arms. “Draco…” he muttered into the pillow.

“Yes, love?” Draco asked, half hoping Harry was still asleep. Harry rolled onto his stomach.

Draco quietly got out of bed, wrapping himself in a robe and padding out of the room. He wanted to write the song down before it was forgotten.

The moonlight was streaming through the windows. Draco sat in his chair and pulled out his notebook, jotting down what he could remember.

A few minutes passed and he could hear footsteps coming down the stairs. Harry’s face popped around the corner a moment later.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten off to,” he half whispered, coming to settle himself on Draco’s armrest. He kissed Draco and then nervously ran his hand through his hair. “What are you doing down here?”

“I had a song. Wanted to write it out before I forgot. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“No, it’s fine.” He looked into Draco’s eyes, searching from something. Draco wanted to ask what.

“Do you want some hot chocolate?” Draco asked.

“Yeah. You stay here, finish what you’re doing. I’ll make it.” Harry got up before Draco could answer, making his way to the kitchen.

The minutes passed and Draco wondered if Harry was boiling the milk again. He sighed, getting up to make his way to the kitchen.

_Of course he is_ , Draco thought fondly, leaning against the door frame to watch Harry. He was putting the milk carton back into the fridge, seeing Draco as he did. He smiled, then leaned up against the kitchen island and folded him arms over his chest, bracing himself against the chill of the very early morning.

_The fridge light washes this room white_

_Moon dances over your good side_

_And this was all we used to need_

Draco went to stand in front of Harry, then gently placed his hands on Harry’s jawline and kissed him slowly.

* * *

“I’ve sent the manuscript to four different publishers already. I really don’t expect to hear back from any of them.”

“I’m sure you’ll get a deal, Draco. You worked on it for ages,” Harry said encouragingly.

Draco scoffed. “If they want to publish something by a Malfoy.”

“You aren’t your father. And you aren’t who you used to be. I’m sure they see that.”

Draco hoped Harry was right. But Harry didn’t see the looks he still got when he walked through Diagon Alley. He didn’t hear the curses people spit at him when he tried to go into some shops. People hadn’t forgotten, they didn’t see.

_But Harry sees._ But even still, Harry didn’t tell his friends about Draco.

_Tongue-tied like we've never known_

_Telling those stories we already told_

_'Cause we don't say what we really mean_

_We're not who we used to be_

_We're not who we used to be_

_We're just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me_

_We're not who we used to be_

_We're not who we used to be_

_We're just two ghosts swimming in a glass half empty_

_Trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat_

_I'm just trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat_

Draco jotted the last of the words down just as Harry finished his hot chocolate. He nodded towards the stairs and Harry smiled, standing to follow Draco back up to the bedroom.

They got into bed together and curled comfortably around each other, drifting back to sleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

Two weeks later, Draco had ambushed Harry in his living room, flooing to Grimmuald Place as soon as he’d finished reading the letter.

A publisher wanted to meet with him. Today, if possible.

Harry was thrilled for him, but Draco had quickly grown more and more nervous. When it was time to head back home to get ready, Harry accompanied him—to help, to distract. Draco wasn’t quite sure which until Harry followed him into the shower and sank straight to his knees in front of him.

Draco quickly forgot his nerves, and his mind thought only of Harry’s mouth.

Harry stepped out of the shower. Draco leaned back against the wall, letting the water wash over his head. Once he’d floated back down to earth, he finished his shower and got dressed.

“Come to the Beachwood when you’re done. I’ll wait for you, and then we can celebrate,” Harry kissed Draco and straightened his tie for him. _How domestic_ , Draco thought. _I could get used to this_.

Draco stepped in front of the fireplace to floo to the publishers.

“You’ve got this, Malfoy,” Harry said.

Draco nodded, then threw the floo powder into the flames and stepped through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Two Ghosts by Harry Styles. One line of lyrics changed to fit the story (same lips red, same eyes blue changed to same eyes green, same lips too).
> 
> Short, but important.


	13. Juice

**Chapter 13-Juice**

“Mr. Malfoy, while I agree that the contents of your book are important to the discourse of the modern Potions world, I simply cannot offer you more than what’s in that contract before you,” Ms. Bates told Draco flatly, shutting off any further complaints from him.

Draco was livid. They were interested in his textbook, but only under their specific terms and conditions, which included practically butchering the entire text and paying him next to nothing for it.

He stood from his chair and picked up his manuscript. “Well then Ms. Bates, I think we’re done here.” Trying to remain as composed as possible, he refrained from slamming the doors on his way out, but the candy jar on Ms. Bates desk shattered from a stray bit of accidental magic.

Once out on the street, he pointed himself toward the Beachwood, hoping Harry was there as promised. He tossed the manuscript in the nearest bin and cast a quick incendio.

A man was stepping out of a shop close by and caught sight of Draco burning away the textbook.

“Death Eater filth. You don’t deserve to walk through Diagon Alley with that stain from the Dark Lord on your arm,” he spat at Draco’s feet, and hurried away, muttering curses at Draco.

Draco sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. He wouldn’t let the man see him waver.

* * *

As soon as he sat down at their table, Draco put his head in his hands.

“What happened?” Harry asked, reaching forward to touch him, concerned. Draco merely shook his head.

“They didn’t want it,” Draco sighed. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but Draco continued. “Well, they said they did, even offered me a contract. But they wanted practically everything changed, wanted to add other people’s names to it so I wouldn’t get the full writing credit, and offered me fuck all for compensation.”

“That’s hippogriff shit. I’m so sorry, Draco.” Harry nudged the hot chocolate into his hands.

Draco explained the details of his meeting and the fine points of the contract, and Harry listened. “And she just expected me to sign it without reading any of it. Like I should have been happy that they even offered.”

“Do you want me to reach out…”

“No. No, thank you, Harry. But no. I want to do this myself. If they don’t want to publish something because a Malfoy has written it, then so be it.”

“Okay.” Harry nodded, but didn’t look happy about it. “It’s only one publisher. You said you’d sent it to several, maybe another will contact you. Hey, why don’t we go get a drink, hm? There’s a pub not far from here.”

“Have a drink,” Draco gestured at his now-empty hot chocolate.

“A bit stronger than that.”

* * *

Draco had ordered an aged scotch when they’d first arrived, but Harry had brought him a pint when he’d finished, telling him it was two for one.

Now seven pints in, Draco was seriously feeling the effects of the alcohol. He’d long forgotten what he came here to forget and was laughing raucously at something Harry had said.

They were sitting in a booth tucked in the back, opposite each other. Their knees and legs were touching under the table. The pub had started off quiet, but it had since filled once 9 pm rolled around. Harry was still nursing his third beer, long since gone warm by now.

“Dance with me?” Draco asked.

“What? No, Draco, I can’t dance.”

“Come on, Potter, where’s your Gryffindor courage?”

“I’m not drunk enough to agree to that, and you’re likely too drunk to stand up straight anyway.”

“Well if you won’t dance with me, Potter, I’m going to sing,” Draco put his drink down and stood.

“What?” Harry tried to stop him, but Draco was already to the stage, muttering something to the DJ.

“You always say you want to hear me sing!” Draco said into the microphone. _Bloody gorgeous_ , Draco thought, staring at Harry, still sitting in their booth.

The song started and Draco did indeed sing. He’d never done karaoke before, but he quite liked the small crowd in front of him dancing and drinking and singing along.

“I'm like Chardonnay, get better over time. Heard you say I'm not the baddest bitch, you lie,” Draco was dancing up and down the stage, feeding off of the energy of several drunk women in the front who were happily singing along with him. 

Harry rubbed his eyes and sighed, smiling. He half waved at Draco to come back to their table, but Draco kept singing. “It ain't my fault that I'm out here getting loose, Gotta blame it on the Goose, Gotta blame it on my juice, baby.”

When the song was through, Draco stumbled back to the table and into Harry. He had already stood and easily caught Draco, steadying him.

“Come on, Malfoy, let’s get you home. I think you’ve had enough for one night,” he half yelled above the music. A group of girls were on stage, butchering some breakup song and holding their glasses up in the air.

“Come off it, Potter, the night is young!” Draco lifted his glass up with the girls, sloshing half the contents onto the ground.

“Yes, but I’m afraid you aren’t as young as you once were. And you’ll probably already regret all this in the morning,” Harry said, steering Draco towards the door.

Once they were outside in the warm summer air, Draco’s ears were ringing from the sudden quiet. Harry grabbed his arm and guided him towards the apparition point.

“Come on, Draco. This way,” Harry said.

Draco looked over at Harry, suddenly overwhelmed with love. He wanted to thank Harry for bringing him tonight, for putting up with him, for talking to him, and for helping him get home. All he managed was a garbled, “Thanks, love.” He was definitely drunk.

They passed a couple holding hands and Draco wished he could hold Harry’s. Wished that he could tell the world about them.

As they were passing a small alley between shops, he settled for dragging Harry into the alley, pushing him up against the wall and snogging him.

For a brief moment, Harry kissed him back. And then suddenly, he was being pushed away.

“Draco, we shouldn’t,” Harry said.

“It’s fine,” Draco went back in for another kiss. Harry pushed him back harder this time.

“Stop, Draco. You’re drunk. We’re in the middle of Diagon Alley.”

Draco reached for Harry, but Harry batted his hand away. “Damnit Harry, I just want to kiss you, for fuck’s sake. I couldn’t give a shit who sees. But don’t worry, I get it. You do care.”

“Draco, that’s not…” Harry started.

Draco’s head hurt. He knew Harry was just trying to stop him so that they wouldn’t wake up to be front-page news in the Prophet.

But he was angry. And he was drunk. So he kept going.

“Wouldn’t want someone to see Precious Potter with a filthy Death Eater. Wouldn’t want the world to know who you’ve been fucking for the last few months.”

Harry balled his fists and glared at Draco. The bins nearby toppled over. Harry was getting angry, so Draco pushed more.

“God knows why you even bother to go out with me at all, the risk must be so high for you, Potter.” He was on a roll now, he wasn’t going to stop. “Why don’t you just go home to that Weaslette, and stop trying to be the Savior of everything. I was perfectly happy before you traipsed in and dumped all your baggage on me and then tried to fix me.”

Harry grabbed Draco’s elbow hard. He practically dragged him out of the alley and down the next block to the apparition point. Draco could tell he was seething, magic crackling around them.

Without a word, Harry got a better grip on Draco and apparated him to the doorstep of his flat. And before Draco could turn to say anything, Harry was gone with another *crack*.

“Fine,” Draco called to the empty air. “And stay gone, you arse!”

Somehow, he made his way inside and up the stairs. He landed on his bed fully clothed, and within seconds was out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is Falling by Harry Styles. 
> 
> The song Draco karaoke's is Juice by Lizzo. Not quite the right time frame for when this story takes place and when the song came out, but I saw a video of Harry Styles singing it and thought it would be funny to add in [here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uPS1qFK6PAM). The idea of Draco Malfoy singing Lizzo just cracks me up. 
> 
> Also, damn Draco, stop being a twat. 
> 
> My beta commented that seven pints is an awful lot, but after some discussion, I kept it. Around New Orleans, where I'm from, that's pretty normal. I don't really condone drinking that much, clearly it makes you do dumb things (I'm looking at you Malfoy).


	14. So Bright Sometimes

**Chapter 14-So Bright Sometimes**

Draco groaned and put his hand over his eyes. The light was streaming through the window onto his pillow.

 _Head hurts_ , he thought. He made a move to grab his wand to check the time, then immediately stopped and groaned again. He felt like shit. _Why do I feel so…Oh fuck._ Memories of the previous night came back to him. Pints, karaoke, kissing Harry. Yelling at Harry. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ Draco thought.

Draco took a few minutes to remember exactly what he’d said to Harry. He grimaced, remembering how angry Harry looked. _You fucking twat, Malfoy. You insecure shit._ He turned and looked at the empty space beside him in the bed where Harry had been the morning before.

Angry at himself and still feeling awful, Draco rolled back over and fell back asleep. Avoiding everything seemed like the best course of action at the moment.

* * *

He woke sometime around lunch and summoned a piece of bread from the kitchen, needing to eat something.

 _Merlin, how could I be so stupid,_ he thought. 10 o’clock had long since passed and he wondered if Harry had gone to the Beachwood to see Draco.

_I'm in my bed_

_And you're not here_

If he had, what did he think when Draco never showed up? And worse, what if he hadn’t even gone?

Draco finished his bread and absentmindedly hummed a tune, wondering what he should do.

_And there's no one to blame_

_But the drink in my wandering hands_

Draco knew he shouldn’t have kissed Harry like that, not in public. What was worse was that Harry would have easily forgiven it, but then Draco had to go and say all of that. Accuse Harry of using him for sex, of hiding him and hiding their relationship.

_Forget what I said_

_It's not what I meant_

But Draco was just as guilty of all that, wasn’t he? He hadn’t told his friends, his mother about Harry. He hadn’t asked what they were, hadn’t defined their relationship. In essence, he was using Harry for sex and way to pass the time. Except that wasn't what Harry was to him.

_And I can't take it back_

_I can't unpack the baggage you left_

_What am I now? What am I now?_

_What if I'm someone I don't want around?_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

Draco rolled back over and decided to ignore everything. Maybe if he pretended that last night hadn’t happened… Maybe if he pretended the last few months never happened…

_What if I'm down? What if I'm out?_

_What if I'm someone you won't talk about?_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

* * *

Three days after the incident, Pansy came through Draco’s floo to find him sitting in his chair at 10 am still in his nightclothes and nursing a scotch.

“Circe’s tit, Malfoy, what’s that smell?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Hmm,” was all Draco provided as answer, not even glancing up at her. He was busy staring a hole into the record player. 

Pansy sighed. She disappeared into the kitchen a few moments, returning with a steaming plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. She took the scotch from Draco’s hand and replaced it with the food.

She drew open the drapes and opened the windows. Pansy waved her wand to mutter a cleaning charm, first at the mess of a room around the room then at Draco himself.

Finally, she sat in the other chair and sighed. “Draco…”

“I'm fine, Pans,” he cut her off.

“Bullshit. I haven’t heard from you in days, no one has. You missed dinner with Blaise the other night. He had something to tell you, you know.”

“Sorry…” He started nibbling at the bacon, partly for something to do and partly because he hadn’t had any real food in ages.

“Don’t apologize to me. He was worried, and Ginny said Potter hadn’t heard from you either.”

Draco’s head shot up at that. “What?”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “If you’d get your head out of your own ass, you’d have noticed that Blaise was seeing someone. Well, that someone is Ginny Weasley. Who’s friends with a certain Chosen One.” Pansy eyed him, knowingly. “She says that Harry’s been seeing someone, but thinks they broke up. He won’t talk about it. You have also said that you’re seeing someone but won’t say who. And now you won’t talk about it. That's a bit much to just be coincidence, don't you think? The three of us merely connected the dots.”

“I fucked things up, Pansy,” Draco sighed, putting his head in his hands.

“Well, obviously. Whatever it is, fix it.”

“I don’t know if I can. I said some things… Pans, he’s so brilliantly bright and I’m like the darkness pulling him back down. I thought I could be better, that he’d make me lighter, but I can’t. And then what I accused him of…”

“Draco,” Pansy got up and knelt in front of Draco, putting her hand on his knee. “You are not your father. You are not evil. You are not bad. Look at me Draco.” He looked into her eyes. “You are worth so much more than you allow yourself to believe. You deserve happiness.”

She stood up, looking at him for a bit. “Now I suggest you go out there and tell Potter that he’s that happiness. Heaven knows you've been pining over him since school.”

Draco knew she was right. Pansy always had a way of pulling him back upright, back to earth. He knew which way he should go, she just kicked him to start moving.

Pansy made Draco promise to stop wallowing and left.

 _I owe him an apology. I owe him an explanation_. Draco knew that Harry deserved at least that. And maybe, just maybe, he’d give Draco a second chance. _Or a third, really_.

Draco thought about what he would say. He didn’t know how to apologize well, wasn’t good at admitting his mistakes. He reached for his guitar, wanting to play a few notes.

_Sweet creature…_

Draco stopped playing. He thought about what he’d said to Pansy. That Harry was the light and he was the dark. He started playing again, a new song this time.

_What do you mean?  
I'm sorry by the way  
I'm never coming back down  
Can't you see?  
I could, but wouldn't stay  
I wouldn't put it like that_

_What do you mean?  
I'm sorry by the way  
I'm never coming around  
It'd be so sweet if things just stayed the same_

_All the lights couldn't put out the dark  
Running through my heart  
Lights up and they know who you are  
Know who you are  
Do you know who you are?_

_Shine, Step into the light  
Shine, So bright sometimes  
Shine, I'm not ever going back_

_All the lights couldn't put out the dark  
Running through my heart  
Lights up and they know who you are  
Know who you are  
Do you know who you are?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first song is part of Falling by Harry Styles (the basis of this whole story)
> 
> The second song is Lights Up by Harry Styles.


	15. You Miss Me Too

**Chapter 15- You Miss Me Too**

Late that evening, Draco heard a tapping at his window. Half hoping to see Agatha, he was disappointed when he saw a plain brown barn owl.

It hopped inside, holding out a letter for Draco to take. Draco gave him an owl treat and told him to wait, just in case. Draco opened the letter.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I received your manuscript for Standard Potions and Their Uses, Level 1. I must say, I would be quite pleased to have a meeting with you regarding this textbook. I can see it easily becoming the new standard text used for Potions students and would love to discuss publishing details._

_Please contact me at your earliest convenience. I look forward to hearing from you._

_Best regards,_

_Olivia Davies_

Draco smiled. Harry had been right, of course, another publisher did want to talk. He quickly penned a response, making an appointment for the following morning. He tied the letter to the little brown owl, who took off out the window.

Draco watched him disappear into the air. _Tomorrow, I will owl Harry, too_.

He sat down in front of the record player and dug through the records to find the Queen album he and Harry had listened to so many weeks ago.

* * *

“We’d like to offer you a publication contract, Mr. Malfoy. But there are certain terms and conditions we hope you’ll agree to.” Mrs. Davies slid the contract across the desk to Draco. _Of course there are._

He grabbed it and started skimming.

“We’ll want further works, of course. We can’t very well publish a Level 1 textbook without planning for consecutive levels. There would be a timeline for those, so you would have to agree to have drafts ready by certain deadlines. And of course, we also would hope you’ll agree to some marketing events, speaking at several upcoming Potions conventions, interviewing for _Potions Quarterly_ , et cetera. We'll handle the basic marketing and sales side of things.”

Draco looked up from the contract. She was serious.

“And we do have an offer price in the contract, but that can be negotiable if it doesn’t seem appropriate…” She almost looked nervous. _She wants me to accept. She actually_ wants _me to accept this deal._ Draco couldn’t believe it and smiled.

“I’m sure we could come to an agreement, Mrs. Davies,” he replied smoothly.

“Wonderful! I’ll just send this along to our legal department and have them reach out to your lawyers to schedule a meeting to finalize everything,” Mrs. Davies said, standing. “It’s been a real pleasure, Mr. Malfoy, I’m so glad to have you join our publishing house.”

Draco shook her hand, “Please. Call me Draco.”

“Draco. I’m Olivia, then. I’ll owl you as soon as we have a date.” She scribbled something on a piece of paper and sent it flying out the door.

Draco nodded and made his way out of the Obscurus Books office.

Once he was out on Diagon Alley, he smiled broadly. _They’re going to publish it._ The first person he wanted to tell was Harry.

He turned toward the post office to rent an owl. He needed to see Harry, there was so much to say.

Once there, Draco paused with his quill above the parchment. _But what do I say?_ He pursed his lips, then wrote.

_Harry,_

_I am so sorry. I miss you._

_Draco_

* * *

Draco returned from the Manor late in the evening, having told his mother about the publication deal. She had insisted on a full seven-course meal and champagne to celebrate.

“I’m so proud of you, Draco,” she had said during dessert.

 _Maybe I can make something new of the Malfoy name. Restore what my father tore down._ Draco smiled at the thought.

He shrugged out of his suit jacket and went to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate. Just as he was adding in more marshmallows than could really fit, he heard the owl scratching at the windowpane.

Draco rushed to the window, recognizing the bird he’d rented at the post office in Diagon. _Harry_ , he thought, letting Agatha in. 

Draco tore open the letter.

_I miss you, too._

Draco closed his eyes. _He responded. He misses me. He responded._

Draco’s mind returned to the song he’d written the day after the incident. He gave Agatha an owl treat and asked her to stay so he could write a response. But first, he wrote down the new pieces of the song. 

_You said you care_

_And you missed me too_

_And I'm well aware I write too many songs about you_

_What am I now? What am I now?_

_What if I'm someone I don't want around?_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

_What if I'm down? What if I'm out?_

_What if I'm someone you won't talk about?_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

Draco tucked the letter from Harry into his notebook full of lyrics. He then tore out a blank page and wrote back to Harry.

He knew he had so much to say, and they would definitely talk when he saw Harry next, but there was something he could do to apologize. To start apologizing and show he was sorry. 

_Harry,_

_Can I play you something?_

_DLM_

Agatha flew off with the response and Draco sat down with his guitar, hot chocolate long forgotten, and started to play all the songs he wanted to sing for Harry, making sure he remembered them. Hoping that Harry would understand, would hear what Draco was trying to say in each of them.

_Everything I want to say to you comes out in lyrics._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is more of Falling by Harry Styles.


	16. Remember That Time Under the Canyon Moon

**Chapter 16-Remember That Time Under the Canyon Moon**

Draco paced back and forth all morning. He’d worked a small line in the grass of the garden, so he moved to the morning room. But he didn’t want Harry to catch him pacing should he arrive suddenly in the fireplace. So he moved to the kitchen.

Trying to rid himself of nervous energy, he reorganized the mugs and the silverware. When he went to start on the pantry, he noticed the empty box of tea.

 _English Breakfast tea,_ he thought. Figuring it the perfect opportunity to get himself out of the house, Draco decided to run out to the shops and buy Harry more tea.

He knew there was a muggle shop around the corner and figured they’d have something. He fumbled through a drawer in his office that had some muggle money he’d converted from galleons just in case.

Slipping on shoes, Draco made his way out the front door. He didn’t use the front entrance often, he realized. He turned up the street, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking towards the shops, humming as he went.

Once in the store, Draco tried to remember the brand Harry had gotten. _White box, yellow lid?_ He reached for a box that looked vaguely like he remembered and headed to the till.

 _Will he even stay for tea?_ Draco thought, trying to shove down the voice in his mind that was telling him buying more tea was awfully hopeful of him.

Draco was making his way back down the street to his flat, still humming. Almost home, what he saw was not at all what he expected. There, on his doorstep, was Harry Potter.

Draco stopped a few feet away from the steps. “Harry?”

Harry turned, apparently not expecting to see Draco outside of the flat. “Oh. Draco, I was just…” He ran his hand through his hair. “I was just about to knock.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry, I popped down to the shops,” Draco answered, holding up the plastic bag as proof. “Was out of tea.”

“Oh,” Harry added eloquently. _Merlin, I missed him._

“Sorry, right, come in.” Draco shuffled around Harry and opened the door. Heading to the kitchen he asked, “Would you like some?”

“Some what?” Harry asked.

“Tea?”

“Oh. Uhm, yeah, please. Thanks.”

Draco gave Harry a small smile, then turned to get two mugs. He filled one with boiling water and one with boiling milk, wondering the if this whole day was going to feel so awkward.

Harry was still standing in the doorway to the kitchen when Draco finished. He took his tea with a mumbled ‘thanks’ and turned towards the morning room.

They sat on their chairs for a few moments, quietly drinking.

Finally, Draco had enough and asked, “How have you been?”

Harry studied him for a moment. “I’ve been okay. Started up Quidditch practices early with a couple of teammates, trying to pass some time.”

Draco could hear the words behind what Harry said aloud. _Trying to pass some time where you weren’t thinking about me, you mean. Did a better job of it than me, I’d wager._

“Well that’s good. I know how you hate the off season.”

“Hmm,” Harry agreed. He’d clearly spent too much time around Draco. Is this how people felt when Draco gave his classic noncommittal answer? _That’s incredibly frustrating. Potter! What are you thinking?_

“Harry,” Draco started. Harry looked up at him expectantly. _Hopeful?_ “Can I play you something?”

“Of course,” Harry breathed, relaxing as if he was trying to figure out how to ask Draco to play.

Draco summoned his guitar and sat up on the edge of his chair. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He hadn’t yet decided what to play first.

Quickly making his very last minute decision to play _Lights Up_ , Draco started strumming. “What do you mean? I'm sorry by the way, I'm never coming back down. Can't you see?” He didn’t dare look up at Harry as he played. He felt like he was baring his soul, reading aloud something never meant to be shared.

But Draco finally understood that all of these words he’d written were meant for Harry and that Harry was meant to hear them. that maybe he should have been singing them for Harry all along.

As he finished the song, he paused before looking to see Harry’s reaction, bracing himself.

Harry’s face was unreadable.

“Well, go on then. Play another,” said Harry.

“Oh…” Draco rolled his shoulders and started playing as he was told. He’d started with his apology. Now he played through their relationship, the questions and the desire and the doubt and the understanding and the love.

Draco had played _Meet Me In the Hallway_ and _Two Ghosts._ He played _Sweet Creature_ and _Golden_ , stealing glances at Harry during each of those. He hoped Harry knew it was all about him.

He paused for a minute, trying to convey in his look to Harry everything he was thinking.

“This last one…” Draco thought about what he wanted to say. “This last one I wrote after one of the happiest days of my life.”

_You gotta see it to believe it  
Sky never looked so blue  
So hard to leave it  
That's what I always do  
So I keep thinking back to  
A time under the canyon moon_

_The world's happy waiting  
Doors yellow, broken, blue  
I heard Ginny saying  
"We were just kids in school"  
And I keep thinking back to  
A time under the canyon moon_

_I’m gone too long from you_

_I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going  
I'm going, oh, I'm going home_

_I'm going, oh, I'm going_   
_I'm going, oh, I'm going_   
_I'm going, oh, I'm going home_

As he slowed his strumming, he realized Harry was standing from his chair. _Don’t leave…_

His thoughts were cut off by a kiss. It wasn’t forceful or needy, it was soft and sweet and full of love. Harry held Draco’s face like it was made of glass, kissed him like he was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

Draco set the guitar down and pulled Harry into his lap, putting everything he was back in to that kiss. They ended the kiss but stayed close, foreheads pressing against each other.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” Draco whispered.

“I know. I forgave you before I even got all the way home. You were right about some of it, I was scared. Scared of what people would say and others trying to pull us apart. Scared of getting hurt. I’m sorry, too. That I didn’t tell you how I felt.” Draco closed his eyes as Harry kissed him lightly again, on the lips and down his jawline.

“Stay with me tonight, Harry?”

“Yes,” he answered into Draco’s neck. Draco smiled, and wrapped his arms tighter around Harry. He wasn’t going to let go and push him away this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All songs named are by Harry Styles and were used in previous chapters. I have an apple playlist of the songs if you want to listen: [https://music.apple.com/us/playlist/beachwood-cafe/pl.u-V9D7mgdcBB4jqG](%E2%80%9Chttp)


	17. Falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it y'all. Thank you for sticking with this story, I love each of you so much for it. Enjoy.

**Chapter 17-Falling**

He woke to the feeling of Harry dragging him in closer. Draco smiled and rolled over so they were face to face, worked his leg in between Harry’s thighs and nestled his head under Harry’s chin.

“Morning,” he mumbled into Harry.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry said gruffly.

“S’fine.”

“It’s almost 9,” Harry said.

“Hmm,” Draco answered. Somewhere in the back of his sleepy mind he remembered telling himself not to do that anymore.

“You know, that’s incredibly annoying. So vague.”

“Yes, you said it to me last night.”

“I was trying to play it cool, so I took a page from your book. Halfway through the first song I wanted to jump you. Anyway, you want to go to the Beachwood? We can still make it there for our usual.”

Draco lifted his head to look at Harry. Harry was smiling.

“Still gives me plenty of time to have my way with you, Potter.” His hand moved to Harry’s ass as he kissed his neck.

“I was thinking…I know we’ve been seeing each other for ages, but…” Harry trailed off.

“But?” Draco quirked an eyebrow.

“But maybe this can be a date. Officially. I think we’ve had enough of skirting around talking about what this is. What we are.”

Draco smiled and rolled on top of Harry. His smiled morphed into a smirk as he answered: “Hmm.”

* * *

Draco missed this. He missed their table and he missed his mornings with Harry. He missed the hot chocolate and missed making fun of Harry’s drink choices.

He was writing notes on the side of his publishing contract, things to remember to ask his solicitor. Harry was back to scribbling different Quidditch plays in his notebook, muttering aloud every so often about formations.

The door chimed and several people made their way through the door and to the counter. Draco glanced up, surprised to see so many people in at this hour.

What he saw shocked him. _Harry’s friends_. _Fuck._

Ron, Hermione, Neville, Hannah, and Ginny were all in the Beachwood Café, ordering drinks. A few of them were carrying shopping bags, all laughing together. They were obviously all out together, enjoying the day with friends.

Draco was staring, wide-eyed, when Hermione noticed him and gave a little, “Oh.” That got the attention of the others, who all turned to look.

All of them seemed to pause, looking back and forth between Harry and Draco and the table set with two drinks and all their work. It would have been comical had Draco’s heart not stopped with worry, mind racing to find some sort of excuse, some sort of lie.

_Shit. Shit shit shit. Merlin, what do I say. There’s no good reason for us to be seen together, let alone having a meal together._

Harry still hadn’t looked up from his notes, unaware of the internal struggle Draco was fighting through.

Finally, Hermione approached the table and cleared her throat. The others made their way behind her, looming over their little table in the corner.

“Harry?” Harry looked up, surprised.

“Oh, hi guys.” Harry glanced over at Draco, then stood to greet his friends. Draco knew from Pansy that Harry had told his friends he was seeing someone, but she’d also said they weren’t sure who.

Now, it seemed to Draco, there was likely no question in their minds. There was no way to explain it away like he’d done with Luna.

_And the coffee's out_

_At the Beachwood Cafe_

_And it kills me 'cause I know we've run out of things we can say_

_What am I now? What am I now?_

_What if I'm someone I don't want around?_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

_What if I'm down? What if I'm out?_

_What if I'm someone you won't talk about?_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

_And I get the feeling that you'll never need me again_

For a brief moment, Draco thinks that Harry will try to say something. To deny it all. Harry had friends and family who loved him, why ruin any of that with Draco in the picture? But no, he’d said this morning that this would be a date. Did that mean…?

“I know I told you all I was seeing someone. Well, everyone, you know Draco. My boyfriend.”

Draco was burning holes in the back of Harry’s head. In the corner of his eye, he caught Ginny’s wide, knowing smile. Ron started to say something.

“Now, I know that we all have a lot of history from back in school, but Draco and I have talked about all of that. I stand by what I said about him at the trials. We understand each other. And,” Harry turned to look at Draco, “I love him.”

Harry holds Draco’s eyes for a moment, then smiles and turns back to his friends. “I hope you all can accept that.”

Draco reaches forward to grab Harry’s hand, stepping beside Harry and chancing a look at everyone.

They all give their congratulations and ‘I told you so’s’, and Ron mutters what sounds suspiciously like ‘ferret,’ but is smiling too.

 _He loves me._ Draco could feel himself grinning. And, for the first time since this whole thing with Harry began, he wasn’t falling anymore. He’d already fallen.

_What am I now? What am I now?_

_What if you're someone I just want around_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

_What if I'm down? What if I'm out?_

_What if I'm someone you won't talk about?_

_I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Falling by Harry Styles. 
> 
> This story was stuck in my head for 6 months, and for the last two weeks, I've been finally writing it down. I hope you all enjoyed it. Another big thank you to my beta, Aigidion.
> 
> P.S. I have an Epilogue coming, partly because I hate odd numbers and partly because my beta said it's "rude to leave the readers hanging on that ending."


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the epilogue to Beachwood Cafe. It's written as twelve snippets of Draco and Harry's life following the end of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's so much about this chapter that just makes me happy. I wanted to give y'all more of an ending to the story. I love that so many of you are loving how light and fun this story has been, and I hope it continues to bring a little bit of light to your heart.

**Chapter 18-Epilogue**

_THE CHOSEN ONE BEFRIENDS DEATH EATER_

_Harry Potter, the Chosen One, Savior of the Wizarding World, was seen this week having coffee with former Death Eater Draco Malfoy at the Beachwood Café on the southside of Diagon Alley…_

Draco sighed, putting the paper down without finishing the article. They were front-page news in the Prophet. And to make matters worse, they’d included a picture of the two of them at the Beachwood from earlier that week. Draco was in his usual suit, reading through _Potions Quarterly_. Harry was in jeans and a Falcons shirt, smiling broadly as he drew out some new defensive play.

There was nothing damning about the picture.

Draco could feel himself tensing, preparing for the day of questions and accusations. And this was just saying they were friends, nothing more. _Wait until the Prophet gets ahold of that news_ , he thought grimly.

Just then, Harry made his way into the kitchen. He glanced at Draco, who nodded towards the paper. Skimming the article, Harry rolled his eyes.

“Honestly, it’s like they’ve nothing better to talk about. Leeches, the lot of them.”

“You’re going to get a lot of questions over the next couple of days, Potter.”

Harry leaned in to kiss him, then grabbed a coffee to go. He was headed to practice early. “Maybe I’ll at least make it interesting for them next time,” he grinned, then made his way out of the room before Draco could ask him what he intended to do.

* * *

Draco was setting and resetting the cheese tray when Harry came into the kitchen, grabbed his hand, and led him to the drawing room. He sat down in Draco’s chair and pulled Draco to his lap.

“Relax, it’s just friends and family Draco,” Harry soothed, running a hand up Draco’s back and kissing his temple.

“I know, I just…” Draco wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. This was the first time most of their friends would see Draco’s flat, and the first time anyone would see it since Harry had moved in a week ago. They’d decided to host a housewarming/New Year’s Eve party.

“Want it to be right?”

“Yes.” Draco sighed. “Distract me?”

Harry agreed happily and started kissing a trail from Draco’s neck, up his jawline, and to his mouth. He pulled Draco’s shirt from his trousers and slipped his hand in, eager to feel the muscles of Draco’s back. Harry’s other hand reached up to run through his hair, and though he’d spent a lot of time perfecting it, he couldn’t be bothered to stop it.

They pulled apart when the wards chimed, alerting them to the arrival of their first guests.

Hours later, just before midnight, Harry raised his glass and addressed the crowd in the garden. Ron and Hermione were close by, Rose sleeping soundly on Ron’s shoulder. Blaise had his arms wrapped around Ginny’s shoulders, both swaying to the music. The large portion of the Weasley clan was there—Arthur and Molly, George and Angelina, even Charlie had come in from Romania for the holidays. Pansy and Hannah were comparing wedding notes and ideas while Neville and Theo were animatedly discussing bank loans and the legal aspects of opening a shop. Narcissa was teaching Teddy how to dance a waltz, while Andromeda watched on. Luna was passing along little hats, noise makers, and 2003 shaped glasses to everyone.

“…we are both so glad that you all could come and are incredibly thankful to have each of you in our lives.” Lifting his glass higher, Harry finished, “May your troubles be less and your blessings be more, and nothing but happiness come through your door.”

The group cheered and applauded, toasting to new chapters.

Draco turned, hearing Blaise clear his throat and seeing him raise his glass back up. _How much has he had to drink,_ Draco thought warmly.

“Ahem, everyone. While we have you all here,” he glanced down at Ginny beside him, “we wanted to let you all know that Ginny and I are married. We eloped last week while we were in France. Cheers!” Blaise downed his champagne.

“Molly is going to freak…” Harry murmured to Draco.

Just as he said it, Arthur and Charlie were helping Molly sit down while Angelina fanned her with a napkin. “My baby girl… married! Oh! And I didn’t even get to plan the wedding!”

Draco caught Blaise’s eye and snickered, quite happy to not be in Blaise’s shoes right now.

A few minutes later, as they counted down the seconds to the new year, Draco couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit jealous of Blaise. Pushing the thought aside, he pulled Harry in for a kiss.

* * *

Draco and Neville had long since finished their drinks but were still happily discussing the finer details of the store. Neville had decided to start his own magical plants shop, selling all kinds of different plants and herbs useful to wizards for potions and other uses. He’d asked Draco a potions-related question one day and the two became fast friends.

Seeing the time, Neville bid farewell to Draco, who decided to stop at a few shops to pick up things to cook for dinner. He and Harry had been testing out new curry recipes, experimenting to find the right flavors.

Draco walked through the front door, bags in hand, and made his way to the kitchen.

“Harry, love, I’m going to start dinner!” he called into the house, not sure what Harry was up to.

“Draco,” Harry said, standing in the doorway. He had an odd look in his eyes, torn between unsure and sad. He was holding an open letter.

“What is it?” Draco stood up straight, a can of chicken broth in hand.

“I…I’m sorry, I didn’t realize when I opened it…” Draco hadn’t seen Harry at a loss for words like this in a long time. He put the broth down and held out his hand for the letter.

Harry took a few steps forward and handed it to him.

 _The Azkaban seal_ … Draco wondered briefly if his father had written to him.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy,_

_I have been asked to inform you that your father, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, has been reported dead in Azkaban Wizarding Prison in the North Sea, UK at 6:54 am on Monday the nineteenth of January in the year 2003. The cause of death has been determined to be respiratory failure due to pneumonia._

_You may collect Mr. Malfoy’s possessions from time of arrest at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Level Two, Room 215._

_Condolences for your loss.  
_ _Gawain Robards_

_Head Auror, Department of Magical Law Enforcement,_ _Ministry of Magic_

Draco read the letter, then read through it again. _Dead?_ His father was dead. Draco hadn’t spoken to his father since the Battle of Hogwarts, not properly at least. They’d exchanged ‘hello’s before the Death Eater Trials, and then Lucius had been sentenced to life in Azkaban. Draco hadn’t written to him, and he hadn’t written to Draco.

 _How will I tell mother?_ He knew his mother still wrote to Lucius every so often, but that he rarely returned the correspondence. She had followed him into two wars, and he knew a part of her still loved Lucius despite what he’d done.

 _I should be glad, after what he did. How he raised me, how he served Voldemort, how he abused and threatened children_. _I should be happy he’s dead._ Draco’s mind raced. He knew that Lucius had deserved the sentencing he got, and he’d even been glad to see him toted off to rot in a cell. But to actually be faced with his death?

He felt Harry’s hand wipe his cheeks and his arms wrapping around him, pulling Draco’s head to his shoulder. _Wet?_ Draco hadn’t realized he was crying. Harry held Draco there for a few minutes, shushing and swaying them slightly.

Before he knew what was happening, Draco let out a sob, fisting his hands in Harry’s shirt.

“I hated him. The things he did… He deserved to die. He deserved to rot.” Draco tried to suck in a breath, but the words just kept coming. “He was never kind, he never showed me love. He never taught me to do anything but not disgrace the Malfoy name. He didn’t show me how to love, or how to make friends. Just allies or enemies.” Draco sniffled, sucking in a few deep breaths. “But I…” he choked up, not sure what he was trying to say.

Harry was rubbing small circles on his back, supporting Draco. “But he was still your father, Draco. He wasn’t perfect, but he was still your dad. You’re allowed to mourn his death.”

Draco nodded into Harry’s shoulder, letting out another small sob and squeezing his eyes shut. Harry held him tighter.

* * *

Draco was in a private box for the Quidditch World Cup, joined by some of the Weasley’s and Teddy.

The Falmouth Falcons had made it this year and were currently almost 6 hours into the match with Puddlemere United. The crowds were cheering, watching Harry and Benjy Wiliams, Puddlemere’s Seeker who’d famously caused a riot in a 1999 game against the Harpies, were in a race around the stands, weaving in between the other players and furiously sending glances at each other. They’d caught sight of the snitch. 

“Come on Harry!” Hermione yelled next to Draco. Ron looked like he was turning green with anticipation. He’d whispered to Draco earlier he placed a rather large bet on Harry catching the snitch and hadn’t yet told Hermione how much.

 _Merlin, look at him._ Draco loved watching Harry fly. He remembered racing him months ago on their way to High Cup, and the happiness he showed when on a broom.

Harry turned his broom abruptly, shooting towards the other end of the stadium. _What are you doing, Potter,_ Draco thought.

Harry had seen the snitch change directions right as Wiliams looked back at Harry. Wiliams realized what had happened too late, and before he could catch up, Harry was holding the snitch above his head, cheering and circling the field.

“Yeah, that’s right Harry!” Draco whooped.

Teddy was running around the box, chanting “Pot-ter! Pot-ter!”

The crowds roared. _Wiliams needs to slow down_ , Draco noted. He was still speeding towards Harry. “Harry, watch Wiliams,” Draco said aloud, half hoping Harry would notice. “Harry, MOVE!” Draco was out of his seat when Wiliams collided with Harry, both tangling with each other and falling. The crowd gave a collective gasp.

“FOUL!” Ron and George were yelling.

“He did that on purpose!”

“Oh no,” Hermione said worriedly.

The Quidditch refs were there in a flash, apparating to right below the two players and stopping them mid-air. When they lowered them to the ground, Harry was running towards Wiliams, shouting something. He landed one good punch to Wiliams’ face before his teammates dragged him away.

 _Always did have a temper,_ Draco thought fondly, heart finally slowing back down to a normal pace.

The others made their way from the box, heading to the Burrow for the celebration party. “I’ll be along in a bit, going to find Harry,” Draco told Hermione as they left.

Draco waited patiently, letting Harry soak in the attention that he seemed to be enjoying for once. Harry was still in his uniform, covered in sweat and mud and grim from the grueling game. His right knuckles were bruised and his left hand still held the snitch, but he was smiling from ear to ear.

He talked to each of his teammates and answered some questions from a few reporters.

When Harry finally saw Draco, he pushed his way through the crowd and threw his arms around him. Draco whispered into his ear, “Congratulations, Potter. Well-deserved, of course.” Harry grinned broadly. “Alright, off. You’re ruining my suit,” Draco said lightly, pushing Harry off. There were plenty of photographers here from the Prophet who would love to get pictures of them for more speculation.

The next morning Harry scoffed at the paper. Right underneath the article on the front page about the Falcons’ win was a story of him and Draco. There was a picture of the two of them at the after party, standing close. There were also a few pictures taken from their outings over the last few weeks.

“Ugh Draco why do you always look so good in these?” Harry complained.

“Come off it, Potter, you have no idea how to take a normal picture,” Draco sipped his hot chocolate and took the Business section from Harry. “Besides, we all know you do it on purpose.”

Harry huffed and drank his coffee.

* * *

“It is my pleasure to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Neville Longbottom!” Lee Jordan’s voice boomed with his sonorus spell. The guests applauded as Neville led Hannah onto the dance floor.

Lee nodded at Draco, who was on the stage with his guitar. Hannah had found out he sang during a late night truth or dare game (that included several shots of firewhiskey) at their flat, and had begged him to sing for their first dance.

She looked gorgeous in her white dress. Neville seemed nervous to be dancing in front of so many people, but Hannah whispered something to him and he seemed to calm down.

Draco scanned the crowd until his eyes landed on Harry. He started to sing. Harry smiled, recognizing his song.

“Sweet Creature, Sweet Creature, When I run out of road you bring me home…”

When Draco finished, the crowd clapped loudly and Lee took over as DJ.

“Will you dance with me this time, Potter?” Draco found Harry at the bar about to get a drink. “I’m sober and promise not to make an arse of myself again.”

Harry smiled at him, remembering that night. “If I say no again, will you start to karaoke?”

“Of course,” Draco replied.

“Then yes. Can’t have someone else falling in love with you singing ‘blame it on my juice’.” Harry’s eyes twinkled and he held his hand out for Draco’s to take.

They spent the rest of the night dancing under the stars. 

* * *

_BOY WHO LIVED—TO BE GAY?_

_Sorry, ladies, the famous Harry Potter swings for the other team. There is much speculation over the nature of friendship between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Fans say they have spotted the two out together most days. While we are unaware of any evidence that Potter, 24, might be interested in men, an anonymous source tells us that he (he asked to not be named) and Malfoy, 24, had an illicit relationship while they were students together at Hogwarts. “He didn’t want to tell anyone that he was gay, but I know for a fact he is,” our source tells us…_

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. _Why do I even bother reading this?_ Glancing again at the article, Draco smiled slightly at the picture of he and Harry.

They had been walking down Diagon Alley towards the Leaky Cauldron to meet some friends when they’d noticed the photographer. Draco was in his suit and sunglasses and looked like he’d just stepped out of a Witch Weekly ad. Harry, on the other hand, immediately made a funny face and made like he was fighting off some invisible assailant, throwing fake punches and kicking the air.

When Draco showed Harry the article over breakfast, he had an idea.

“You know, all this free media attention would probably help sales of your new line,” Draco suggested.

“Draco, that’s brilliant!” Harry and George Weasley had just recently made a deal together to start a new Quidditch gear and broomstick line at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes that Harry was to endorse.

From then on, every picture that the Prophet published of Harry showed him sporting the new purple and orange WWW Quidditch jerseys.

* * *

_I’m 24 years old, why do I feel like I’m about to be given a lecture,_ Draco thought to himself, amused. He was sitting in the Headmistress’ office at Hogwarts, about to be served tea by Headmistress McGonagall.

“Mr. Malfoy, you seem to have done rather well for yourself since you left Hogwarts,” she said as she added sugar to her tea and stirred.

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway. “Yes, Headmistress.”

“Oh, Minerva, please,” she said. “We’re both adults.” She looked at him through her glasses, making him feel more like a student than ever.

He took a sip of his tea, hiding his grimace at the taste behind a well-composed face.

“I’m glad you agreed to meet with me Draco. I was sent an advanced copy of your potions textbook by your publisher—she had many good things to say about it, I might add—and was quite pleased with what you’ve done for the subject. It’s very well-written and I think will serve the Hogwarts students well. I have changed the textbook requirements for all students next year to _Standard Potions and Their Uses, Level 1_.”

Draco was surprised. “Thank you, Minerva. That means a lot, especially from you.” _Every student will be required to use_ my _textbook_ , Draco thought in awe.

“You may not know, but Professor Zouch will be retiring at the end of this year. I know you don’t have teaching experience, but I think you will be the best replacement for the job. If you’ll take it.” She added that last bit, possibly realizing it sounded more like an order than a request.

“You want me to be a professor at Hogwarts?”

“Yes. Potions professor. You have your mastery and have written the textbook. You should do quite well.”

“You think parents will want a Death Eater teaching their kids?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Former Death Eater, Mr. Malfoy. And if any parents should have issue with it, they can speak to me directly.” She sounded like she had made up her mind. And Draco shuttered to think about anyone standing in McGonagall’s way once she’d decided on something. She had rebuilt Hogwarts after the war and had a zero tolerance policy for pureblood supremacy ideals or bullying.

“I… Can I think about it?” Draco didn’t know how to answer. Sure, he wanted the post. But it would come with a lot of scrutiny from… well, everyone.

“Yes, please do. I expect a response by the end of this term.” She set her teacup down and reached across her desk to pick up a copy of the Prophet.

Draco noticed the article on the front. _Shit_. It was another in a long line of articles speculating on the nature of his and Harry’s relationship.

“While you are here, I would like to discuss this with you.” She eyed him for a little. Draco couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, like he had been caught not paying attention in class.

“What, exactly, are your intentions with Mr. Potter?”

“Erhm…” _Eloquent, Draco._ “I… We…” he started.

“Harry is very dear to me, and I would not like to see anyone hurting him. He trusts very easily.” _Yes. And I don’t intend to hurt him again._ “However, he is an adult and I trust that he can make his own decisions. He also is an extremely good judge of character.” She was smiling at him.

Draco wasn’t sure if that smile should make him feel at ease or more uncomfortable.

“Right,” he said.

“Well, thank you for this meeting. I hope you’re well, my condolences to hear about your father. Please pass along my greetings to Harry.” She stood up, handing Draco a letter.

Draco took it, looking at her questioningly.

“Your official offer letter. Oh, before you leave, would you mind signing my book?” She grinned, reaching for the advanced copy of his textbook.

“Of course,” Draco bent over her desk to sign his name on the first page. _Did Minerva McGonagall just ask me to sign her book like a groupie?_

Draco left Hogwarts with a bemused smile on his face.

* * *

Draco helped Blaise straighten his tie, then handed the cufflinks to Theo. There was a knock on the door, so Draco answered. “Five minutes, boy,” Pansy’s cousin told them.

“You got this, mate,” Blaise said, clapping Theo on the back. “Only the rest of your life, right?”

Theo looked like he might be sick. It was finally his wedding day, and Draco and Blaise were groomsmen. “I get why you didn’t do all this Blaise. Too much pressure on one day.”

They all chuckled at that. _At least he loves her. And they picked each other,_ Draco thought, briefly imaging what life would have been like had they all ended up in arranged marriages.

“You know, Draco, it’s your turn next,” Blaise winked.

Draco was stunned by the words. ‘ _You’re next.’_ He and Harry had been together for about 10 months, officially. They’d been seeing each other much longer than that. And Draco loved Harry, he did. But marriage? Was that really the next step? They hadn’t really talked about it, both seeming content to live their life together for now.

They walked up the aisle and stood at the front of the church. The wedding march played and Draco vaguely remembered thinking how beautiful Pansy looked in her dress.

As the officiant started reciting the vows for Theo and Pansy to repeat back, Draco’s eyes found Harry in the pews. Their eyes stayed locked on each other for the remainder of the ceremony. _What is he thinking? Would he want this to be us one day?_

The officiant pronounced them married and the wedding party made their way out of the church. They took pictures, and Draco escaped to the reception hall to get ready to perform for the first dance. After Neville and Hannah’s wedding, Pansy had made Draco promise to write her and Theo a song to sing as their first dance.

Harry shuffled up to the stage where Draco was checking his guitar. “Can I have the first dance?”

Draco looked Harry over. “I’m not sure how my boyfriend would feel about me dancing with some hot stranger.”

Harry smiled. “Might be jealous. But I’m willing to risk it.”

“Harry… the song I’m playing,” Draco paused.

“Yeah?”

“I wrote it about us.”

“Oh. Well then, that should definitely make your boyfriend jealous,” he said, winking and turning to stand with some other guests.

_Walk in your rainbow paradise_

_Strawberry chapstick state of mind_

_I get so lost inside your eyes_

_Would you believe it?_

_You don't have to say you love me_

_You don't have to say nothing_

_You don't have to say you're mine_

_Honey_

_I'd walk through fire for you_

_Just let me adore you_

_Oh, honey_

_I'd walk through fire for you_

_Just let me adore you_

_Like it's the only thing I'll ever do_

_Like it's the only thing I'll ever do_

_Your wonder under summer sky_

_Brown skin and lemon over ice_

_Would you believe it?_

_You don't have to say you love me_

_I just wanna tell you somethin'_

_Lately you've been on my mind_

_Honey_

_I'd walk through fire for you_

_Just let me adore you_

_Oh, honey_

_I'd walk through fire for you_

_Just let me adore you_

_Like it's the only thing I'll ever do_

_Like it's the only thing I'll ever do_

_It's the only thing I'll ever do_

_It's the only thing I'll ever do_

_I'd walk through fire for you_

_Just let me adore you_

_Oh, honey, oh, honey_

_I'd walk through fire for you_

_Just let me adore you_

_Oh, honey_

_Just let me adore you_

_Like it's the only thing I'll ever do_

Later that night while Draco and Harry were dancing, Harry said, “You know, Luna mentioned to me earlier that you should consider releasing an album. I think it’s a good idea.”

Maybe it was the alcohol or the long day or the way Harry said it was a good idea, but Draco actually considered it. “Hmm,” was all he said as answer.

* * *

Six weeks before the new Hogwarts term was to start, Draco’s textbook was released and he was at Flourish & Blotts for a Q&A and book signing. The publisher told him that this was the largest pre-order they had ever received. Having the book as a required Hogwarts text helped.

Draco was waiting in an office in the back of the store, peaking through the window at the packed bookshop. He was nervous and wished Harry was there to calm him. But since winning the World Cup, Harry had been made captain of the Falcons and had practice.

“…so pleased to introduce Draco Malfoy, author of _Standard Potions and Their Uses, Level 1_ and the new Potions professor at Hogwarts!” Olivia Davies waved Draco onto the little stage they’d put in the store.

“I’d like to thank each of you for coming here today, and for purchasing the textbook. It means a lot,” he glanced over at Olivia who mouthed the words ‘take questions’. “Uhm, right, so I’ll answer a few questions if you’d like.”

Draco answered the questions of several different people, including what looked to be some Hogwarts students, a few parents, and a reporter. One woman asked about him and Harry, the other women around her sniggering. Draco blushed and just said that they were friends and former classmates.

Olivia took over picking who could ask the questions from there. Draco answered as best he could. The next person Olivia called on started their question and Draco searched the crowd for the familiar voice.

There, near the door, was Harry Potter. “Mr. Malfoy, can you tell us what helped you most during your writing process? You know, in case any of us want to write a book of our own.” He had a twinkle in his eye as he asked.

There were whispers running through the crowd that Harry Potter was there, and people started to turn and crane their necks.

Draco grinned. “Thank you for your question, Mr. Potter. I think what helped most was hot chocolate and an annoying friend.”

* * *

They both lay in the grass on the edge of the canyon, staring up at the stars. Today was one year since their “official” first date at the Beachwood when Harry had announced to his friends that they were dating.

They decided to celebrate by flying together to High Cup Nick. It was just as beautiful as Draco had remembered, with the wildflowers and rolling hills. They had eaten and then napped under the warmth of the sun.

Harry had made Draco bring along his guitar so he could play their song. Harry hummed along, leaning back on his hands and watching Draco play.

Now Draco was pointing out constellations to Harry. “Do you ever think about the future?” Harry asked.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Draco said, sitting up.

“What?” Harry sat up, confused.

“Well, it's our anniversary. And I got you something. It’s kind of big, but I think it’s a good investment…” Draco trailed off.

He looked at Harry sitting in front of him. _Golden._ Draco looked back out over the canyon.

“Well. What is it?” Harry could barely contain himself, excited and nervous all at once.

“I purchased the Beachwood.”

“You what?” Harry started. “It was for sale?”

“Not exactly,” Draco gave a mischievous grin. “But with enough money, anything is for sale.”

“Oh my…You bought the Beachwood? For me?”

“Yes. I would do anything for you, Harry.”

“Marry me,” Harry breathed out. He looked into Draco’s eyes for a moment, then fumbled through his pocket. He pulled out a ring box and handed it to Draco.

Draco opened it. Inside was a small, silver band. A feather was etched on the inside.

“Marry me, Draco Malfoy. I love you and I want you in my life forever. I want us forever.”

“Yes,” Draco barely spoke the word before Harry was kissing him.

Draco laid back down in the grass, pulling Harry on top of him. Their kisses soon turned lazy and Harry started kissing down Draco’s neck.

“Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot,” Draco said fondly, holding Harry close.

* * *

_HARRY POTTER AND DRACO MALFOY TO WED_

_Draco Malfoy, author of renowned potions textbooks ‘Standard Potions and Their Uses, Level 1’ and ‘Standard Potions and Their Uses, Level 2’ (currently unreleased) and new Professor of Potions at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, to wed Harry Potter, captain of the Falmouth Falcons and part owner of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes’ Quidditch Equipment and Brooms Line, in a small ceremony later this year. The two have been dating for over a year, starting their friendship at the Beachwood Café, of which they are now both owners…_

Draco had to hand it to Luna, she definitely did things her way. He was glad to have their news out via the Quibbler first, knowing that Prophet would only write near-truths. And he couldn’t help but staring at the picture she’d taken.

They had gone to Luna’s house for the interview, but it really just felt like a conversation between old friends. Draco hadn’t realized she’d snapped a picture of the two of them.

Picture-Harry was laughing at something Draco had just said, and picture-Draco turned to look at him, smiling. Draco could see every ounce of love in his eyes, the raw emotion conveyed through the tiny black and white magical loop.

He cut the article out with a quick spell and fondly tucked it into his notebook.

* * *

Harry slipped quietly into the door of Madam Malkin’s, checking to make sure Draco hadn’t noticed him. Draco was here to be fitted for new professor’s robes as his Hogwarts Potions professor post was starting this fall term. Harry spotted him in the back of the shop, standing on a footstool in front of three large mirrors, with a young witch pinning the hem of the robes to the right length.

She looked up at Harry, who quickly put his finger to his lips silently asking her not to give him away.

“Oh dear, I’m out of pins. I’ll pop to the back, one moment Mr. Malfoy.” She ran off quickly, winking at Harry on her way out.

Harry leaned casually against the wall, just out of Draco’s view in the mirrors. He was admiring the sight before him. His fiancé. His love. And he was taken back to all those years ago, struck with the memory that this was the first place they met.

Smiling, he repeated Draco’s first words to him. “Hello,” he said. “Hogwarts, too?”

Draco lifted his head to look at Harry through the mirror, eyes bright. “Yes,” he responded, echoing Harry’s answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song is Adore You by Harry Styles. 
> 
> That last bit though, that's some good shit. In case you don't recognize it, it's basically an imitation of their very first (book) meeting at Madam Malkin's before first year started.


End file.
